


the dreams we burned to ash

by aceklaviergavin



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Child Abuse, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Childhood Trauma, Conflict of Interests, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route Spoilers, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Heavy Angst, Human Experimentation, Loyalty, Manipulation, Platonic Relationships, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Canon, Pre-Ferdibert, Survival, Those Who Slither in the Dark, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:21:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 76,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22973938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceklaviergavin/pseuds/aceklaviergavin
Summary: Hubert's life belonged to Lady Edelgard von Hresvelg before either of them was born. From birth, he was taught to serve his lady, to protect her at all costs.Then the world he knows crumbles and his lady slips from his grasp. What is the shape of Hubert's loyalty? What does it mean to survive in a forsaken world?orHubert watches an empire fall and creates a new world from the ashes.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & Edelgard von Hresvelg's Siblings, Edelgard von Hresvelg & Hubert von Vestra, Ferdinand von Aegir & Edelgard von Hresvelg's Siblings, Ferdinand von Aegir & Hubert von Vestra, Hubert von Vestra & Edelgard von Hresvelg's Siblings, Hubert von Vestra & Those Who Slither in the Dark
Comments: 18
Kudos: 85





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> haha hubert what a fucking rat he looks like bobbypin crumblesnatch
> 
> *trips and falls face first into the sewer*
> 
> to no one's surprise i have fallen for another piece of shit, news at 11
> 
> anyway i have like. 60k of this mess written and i'm so done waiting to finish so here just take it please and release me from my suffering
> 
> also this is canon compliant except for one thing which is hubert has an older brother fucking @ me.
> 
> I'll put applicable warnings at the end of each chapter.

Arvid von Vestra’s footsteps echoed through the halls of the Imperial Palace. Servants could hear the  _ clack  _ of his heel on stone from around the corner and pressed themselves against the walls. They knew better than to get in the way of the Emperor’s hound.

“Remind me, Hubert.” Arvid’s voice broke the early morning silence, swelling to fill the space beneath that palace’s vaulted ceilings. “Your first duty is to whom?”

“My liege, sir,” Hubert replied, reciting the phrase that had been impressed upon him since birth. “For their will is my own.”

Little Hubert, walking stiffly in a heavily starched suit, struggled to keep pace with his father. At six, he barely came up to his father’s waist, and his short, rail-thin legs struggled to match Arvid’s long strides. Arvid paid no mind to his son’s battle, forcing little Hubert to jog every few steps to keep pace.

“And your second duty?” Arvid continued.

“To survive. For I am my lord’s most precious weapon.”

Arvid stopped. Hubert nearly stumbled in his effort to avoid colliding with his father’s backside. They stood in front of a set of heavy double doors, inlaid with fine gold filigree. Hubert was so distracted by the ornamentation that he almost didn’t notice his father’s gaze as it focused on him.

Arvid clapped a heavy hand on Hubert’s shoulder. The boy jumped in his skin, focus pulled back to his father.

“Good boy.” Arvid rarely smiled, but Hubert recognized the glint of pride in his eyes, and warmth blossomed in Hubert’s chest.

Hubert met his father’s appraising eye. Hubert tried to remember his lessons, all those afternoons spent with a ruler tied to his back, his instructors rapping against his clenched fists.  _ Chin up, back straight, toes forward,  _ he rigorously went through the checklist in his head. Arvid exhaled a silent laugh, as Hubert straightened before his eye like a string pulled taut.

“Now,” and Arvid couldn’t keep the warm threat of a smile out of his voice. “Are you ready for the first day of the rest of your life?”

Hubert nodded vehemently. He had been awaiting this day since he was born. From the first time his father told him of the von Vestra legacy, he had longed for the day when he would, at last, assume the mantle as his siblings had, as Arvid himself had many, many years ago. Hubert had been born for one purpose, and today he would finally fulfill it.

Today, he would meet his liege.

Without another moment’s hesitation, Arvid threw open the double doors. Beyond was a simple parlor room, adorned in pale pink and gold finery. Natural light streamed through scalloped lace curtains, beyond which lay the palace gardens, red carnations in full bloom. In front of the window, a table was set for tea, all manner of pastries piled high on the serving tray.

A faded rug lay in the middle of the room, bearing the twin-headed eagle of the Adrestian Empire. At the head of the eagle stood a woman with dark hair, flanked by a severe-looking man with the same dark hair. But Hubert’s eyes were drawn to the small girl whose hands fisted in her mother’s dress.

Arvid cleared his throat pointedly, and Hubert realized he’d frozen in place, nerves locking his knees. Hubert stiffly walked into the room, glued to his father’s side as the adults in the room towered over him. Arvid walked him to the tail of the eagle, directly across from the other three occupants.

“Anselma, Volkhard,” Arvid said, nodding to the woman and man respectively. “I’m pleased to introduce my youngest, Hubert von Vestra.”

Arvid pointedly pressed his hand into the small of Hubert’s back. Hubert stepped forward, bowing severely at the waist. “I am h-honored to meet you, sirs.”

As Hubert lurched back to his full height, his bangs fell loose from where they had been slicked back that morning. Nervously, he brushed them back, hoping this time they would stay.

“Hubert, this is Anselma and Volkhard von Arundel.”

“The honor is ours, Hubert,” the woman, Anselma said, her voice a balm to Hubert’s nerves.

Volkhard stayed silent, watching Hubert with piercing eyes. Hubert did his best to ignore it. Anselma turned to the girl at her side, unfolding the child’s hand from her dress with gentle fingers.

“El,” Anselma sang. “Do you want to introduce yourself the way we talked about?”

The girl nodded, ribbons bouncing, even as her gaze refused to leave her mother’s. Anselma smiled, gently guiding the girl forward with her hand until the child stood directly in front of Hubert.

“Now.” Anselma let go of the girl’s hand. “What do we say to the nice boy?”

Hubert watched with bated breath, hands fisted tightly at his sides, struggling to remember all the preparations father had walked him through, the motions that he had practiced a hundred times over. They all flew from his mind as the young girl finally locked eyes with his.

The girl grabbed the hem of her skirt (Adrestian red), fumbling as she crossed her legs in a delicate curtsy. “I’m Edelgard von Hresvelg, and...” She paused. “I’m Edelgard von Hresvelg, and I’m…” Edelgard trailed off, pouting as she tried to remember what to say next.

“Third in line….” Anselma whispered from over Edelgard’s shoulder.

“Third in line for the throne!” Edelgard said triumphantly, curtsying once more.

Edelgard’s violet eyes met Hubert’s, and Hubert realized he was to introduce himself once more, this time to his lord. Hubert bowed swiftly, hair falling from its place again.

“M-my name is Hubert von Vestra, and my life is yours!”

This time, Hubert held his bow, too nervous to release it without permission. His nails dug into his palms, fists shaking. He desperately wanted to do his family, and his lord proud. He  _ needed _ Edelgard to approve of him. If Edelgard dismissed him, if he upset her, there would be no end to the shame dealt to his family.

Edelgard, for her part, hardly understood what was going on. Her mother had said they couldn’t have tea until “someone important” arrived. She assumed this boy was the “someone important.” Surely that meant they could have tea now?

“Do you like tea?” Edelgard blurted out.

Hubert straightened, brushing his bangs back once more. His eyes flickered between Edelgard and his father, silently asking for help. This hadn’t been part of his training.

“If… if my lady likes it, then yes!”

Edelgard didn’t really understand this “lady” business, but she supposed that was good enough. She grabbed Hubert’s hand without preamble, causing the boy to nearly jump out of his skin. “Good, because it’s tea time.”

She led Hubert by the hand to where the tea had been set. Edelgard was much shorter than her new vassal, and Hubert had to stoop awkwardly to let her lead him.

“What pastries do you like?” Edelgard asked, scrambling onto the chair by the window.

“Ah, my lady, let me help you!” Hubert said, but Edelgard had already settled into her seat. “I like meat pies?” Hubert offered helplessly.

Edelgard was already reaching for the teapot atop the table. “That’s not a pastry, silly!”

“Lady Edelgard, please, let me pour that!” Hubert said, near panic as he scrambled for the teapot.

Anselma smiled tenderly, the lines around her eyes deepening as she watched the display. “I think that went well, don’t you?” she turned to Arvid.

Arvid hummed in agreement. “We’ll see if he can keep up with Lady Edelgard.”

From then on, Hubert’s days were spent chasing the young princess through the halls of the palace, doing his best to keep her out of trouble. If Princess Edelgard didn’t have Hubert’s hand clasped in hers, the willowy boy stooped low over his charge, Hubert was sure to be lurking in the princess’ shadow.

Edelgard, however, didn’t quite understand the purpose of her vassal. “Why do you keep following me?” she asked.

Hubert looked pointedly at their clasped hands, as Edelgard led him to her favorite flower in the gardens. “It’s my sworn duty.”

Edelgard pursed her lips, even as she continued on. “Mama says it’s not good to swear.”

“That’s a different kind of swearing, Lady Edelgard.”

Edelgard wrinkled her nose, catching the scent of something foul despite being surrounded by flowers. “Why do you call me a lady?”

Hubert met her gaze, finding a fierceness that belied her age. “Because that’s your title, my lady.”

“You should call me El.”

Hubert gaped at her, a fish gasping for breath. “My lady, that would… that would be improper.”

Edelgard stomped her foot, fine leather shoes scraping against the stone pathway. “All my  _ other _ friends call me El!”

For the first time, Edelgard looked her age.

Hubert let out a long, slow breath. His lady was only four. Huber had been told of his purpose since the day he was born, he had watched his father and siblings serve their lords and yearned for the day that he could finally do the same. He couldn’t hold Lady Edelgard to the same standard of knowledge. She was still growing, still learning. Hubert’s instructors had impressed that upon him time and time again.

Even so, Hubert had been raised for one purpose, to be Lady Edelgard’s  _ vassal. _ He was constantly improving, remaking himself into something, some _ one _ that would be of use to Lady Edelgard. He was her tool, her weapon, her greatest ally.

To be likened to a mere  _ friend _ was an insult.

“Lady Edelgard, we are not friends. I’m your  _ vassal,” _ Hubert said, chest swelling with pride.

Edelgard’s lower lip trembled, a lake’s surface rippling. “What do you  _ mean?” _ she asked, volume growing into a shout. “I thought you liked me!”

With dawning horror, Hubert realized Lady Edelgard was about to  _ cry. _

“My lady, please don’t cry.” Hubert stretched out his hands as if attempting to calm a wild animal.  _ “Of course, _ I like you!” The notion that Hubert could feel otherwise was  _ preposterous. _

“I don’t wanna be friends anymore!” Edelgard shouted, fists balling into the material of her dress.

“Oh, my lady, please don’t do that, you’ll tear your dress—”

_ “I hate you!” _

Hubert choked on his words, throat closing as the noose closed around his neck. Edelgard ran out of the gardens in tears, as Hubert stayed rooted to the ground like one of the trees.

Later, Hubert sat in the den of Nerium Manor, his childhood home. He slumped in his father’s favorite armchair, even as it threatened to swallow him. His legs hung in the air, too short to touch the ground, his eyes downcast as he refused to meet Isolde von Vestra’s gaze.

Isolde walked to Hubert’s front, steps light and gentle, each timed to the beat of Hubert’s heart. Hands folded in her lap, Isolde stopped before her son, gentle charcoal eyes following the line of her nose.

Hubert’s shoulders drooped like a willow tree, and for once Isolde didn’t remind him of his posture.

Arvid von Vestra’s cruelty was well-known throughout the empire, even to his children. Hubert had seen it firsthand. Cruelty lay in the flash of bronze tools in his father’s desk, in red stains on white gloves, in all the secrets untold behind his father’s eyes. Hubert was too young to piece the myriad clues together, to understand the nature of his father’s work. Deep in his core, he knew it to be noble because it was for the empire. For Lady Edelgard.

Isolde von Vestra was every bit as noble as her husband. She cut a striking figure, high cheekbones and pointed chin. In her younger days, no one would call her conventionally beautiful, yet it was impossible to tear one’s eyes away. She was strict, as demanding of her peers as she was of herself. In that way, she and Arvid made a good match. However, unlike Arvid, Isolde was unquestionably gentle.

Matters of the heart were better tended to by Isolde.

“You told Lady Edelgard you weren’t her friend?” Isolde covered her mouth, struggling to hide her smile.

“I’m sorry, mother,” Hubert drawled, in a tone that was far too wise for his age. “I’ve disgraced our family name.”

Isolde couldn’t help the laugh that escaped, covering it with a cough. “Hm.”

“Lady Edelgard  _ hates  _ me,” Hubert cried, lost in the throes of misery.

Isolde cleared his throat of laughter. “First of all, Hubie, you cannot control whether your lord likes you. You can only serve them as best as you can.”

Hubert frowned, still refusing to meet his mother’s eyes. But Hubert was always a thoughtful boy, and Isolde could see the gears turning in Hubert’s head.

“Second, and most important; I’m certain Lady Edelgard doesn’t hate you—”

Hubert finally met his mother’s eyes. “But—!”

Isolde held up her hand, signaling Hubert to stop. “She  _ said _ she hated you, there’s a difference.”

Hubert furrowed his brow, in an expression that looked far too much like his father’s. “I don’t understand.”

“Let me ask you this.” Isolde leaned in close to his son as if she were about to share a secret. “Have you ever told a lie?”

Hubert’s eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, cheeks going a pallid white. Hubert took a moment to respond, like schooling himself to keep his voice steady. He had a good poker face for his age, certainly. But not good enough for a vassal of the Empire.

“...No.” His voice was even and measured, no hint of the anxiety behind Hubert’s eyes.

Laughter bubbled behind Isolde’s breastbone, even as her mouth stayed a firm line. “That was a trick question.” Isolde pinched the end of Hubert’s nose.  _ “Everyone _ lies. Commendable effort, though.”

Hubert rubbed his nose where Isolde had pinched him. He was annoyed at having been caught in a lie despite his best efforts. “What does that have to do with Lady Edelgard, though?”

“Pay attention, because this is important.” Hubert leaned in, scooting to the edge of his seat. “Sometimes people lie without even  _ realizing  _ it.”

“Why?”

“Because humans are fickle, complicated, messy, and we’re even better at lying to ourselves than we are at lying to other people.” Isolde caught Hubert’s gaze, holding it steady. “Part of your job as Lady Edelgard’s retainer is to know when people are lying to her.”

The gears spun again, pieces of a puzzle clicking into place. “Even when they don’t realize they’re lying?”

Isolde nodded. “Even when the one lying is Lady Edelgard herself.”

The gears ground to a halt. “But Lady Edelgard doesn’t  _ want  _ me as her retainer anymore.”

“And why is that again?”

“Because I said we couldn’t be friends.”

“Why not?”

Hubert met Isolde’s eyes with indignant fury. “Because I’m her vassal! I’ve been sworn to her since birth! To call me a mere friend is an  _ insult _ to everything our family stands for!”

Even Isolde was taken aback by Hubert’s vehemence. Hubert shrunk in on himself, curling up in his father’s armchair.

“I’m sorry for yelling, mother,” Hubert said meekly.

Like many things, Isolde chose to let it slide, just this once. Today would be a day of lessons, it seemed.

“Hubert.” Isolde knelt before her youngest, voice exceedingly gentle. “Your duty is important, but it does not preclude you from having friends.”

Hubert frowned, far too serious for a boy his age. “But my life belongs to Lady Edelgard.”

“But it also belongs to  _ you. _ ” Isolde took Hubert’s hands, rubbing circles into his skin. “Is there a reason you cannot be Lady Edelgard’s friend  _ as well _ as her vassal?”

That well-oiled machine Hubert called a brain began to turn. Someday, Hubert would make a gifted tactician. Instead of the relief Isolde expected, Hubert’s face paled with horror.

“Mother,” Hubert gasped, nails digging into the chair’s upholstery. “I’ve committed  _ treason.” _

Isolde turned her head, faking another cough to hide her laughter. In another life, Hubert would make a gifted thespian. 

Isolde schooled her expression, turning back with a grave countenance. “This one time, I think you can be forgiven.”

Hubert bowed, deep and reverent. “Thank you, Mother! I won’t let you or Father down!”

Isolde raised one thin eyebrow. “It’s not me you have to make it up to.”

Hubert’s gaze dropped to his feet. “Of course.”

That, however, was going to be Hubert’s battle to win. Isolde shook her head, rising to her feet. “You’re dismissed, Hubert. Spend the rest of the day planning how to make it up to Her Highness.”

Hubert hopped off the armchair with a soft thud. “Thank you for your time, Mother.” He bowed once more and turned to leave.

Arvid reached for her sewing needles, gazing at the tattered jacket she’d abandoned in favor of Hubert’s mid-life crisis. Hubert trudged out the door, feet scuffing on the floor. It was better than when he’d walked in, certainly, but clearly the weight of amends he had to make weighed on the young boy’s shoulders. Hubert was almost out the door when Isolde called for him one last time.

“Oh, and Hubert?”

Hubert whirled on his heel so fast he almost became dizzy. “Yes, Mother?”

Isolde smiled. “I have it on good authority that the princess likes sweet buns.”

Hubert’s whole countenance brightened with a newfound determination. “Thank you, Mother!”

He bounded off, in search of the larder, no doubt. At least, Isolde could return to work, assured that her son and the princess would be alright.

The next morning, the young princess was delighted to find a  _ whole basket _ of still-warm sweet buns outside her chambers, alongside a handwritten note. (Unable to read as of yet, Edelgard asked Anselma to read it for her.)

> _ Lady Edelgard, _
> 
> _ Deepest apologies for my transgressions. I would be honored if you still wished to call me your friend. _
> 
> _ -Hubert von Vestra _

* * *

Acting as Edelgard's retainer meant being an extension of Lady Edelgard herself. Hubert was to be her eyes, ears, and sword, should it be required. He was the princess's will, given human form, suffused with Edelgard's wants and desires until there was no room for his own.

The problem was that Lady Edelgard was four, and often her will was benevolently misguided.

"Ferdie!" Edelgard called, nearly tripping over her own feet in her haste to reach the stables.

Hubert fell into step behind her, longer legs managing to keep pace at a brisk walk. "Please, slow down," Hubert begged. "It's not proper for a princess to run."

But Hubert's words might as well have been a gust of wind, for all the attention Edelgard paid them. Instead, her focus was centered entirely on the young boy perched on the paddock fence, precariously leaning over. He desperately waved a handful of hay in the direction of the horses, who obliviously keep munching on the grass.

"Ferdinand!" Edelgard calls again.

This time, Ferdinand turned from the horses, gaze falling on the princess. Ferdinand beamed at her with a toothy grin, hopping down from the fence. Ferdinand transitioned smoothly into a bow, as Edelgard slid to a halt.

"Hi, Edelgard!" he said brightly, voice far too big for a boy of his size. A few of the horses finally took notice of the loud creature, swishing their tails in annoyance. 

_ "Lady  _ Edelgard," Hubert corrected. 

Ferdinand’s eyes slid over Hubert with the same regard one would show an obnoxious dog. His smile was a veneer of politeness, eyes vacant, before ignoring Hubert altogether.

Edelgard was too focused on her friend to notice. "I saw our Papas talking." Her face pinched into an adorable pout. "Why didn't you come get me?"

"Sorry, Edelgard, but I ‘m doing lessons with Crown Prince Elric!" Neither Ferdinand's expression nor the cheer in his voice indicated he felt any remorse. "I came here to see Brunhild." Ferdinand pointed at a dappled gray horse.

Edelgard's little hands balled into fists, nails pinching her palms. "Aren't you gonna join Hubie 'n me for tea time?"

It was Edelgard's favorite game. Ferdinand's, too, if Hubert's memory served.

Ferdinand scoffed. "As the future Pie Miniature, I cannot play baby games anymore!!"

If Hubert were a kinder man, he might point out that Ferdinand was to be the  _ Prime Minister _ of Adrestia. However, considering all the attention Ferdinand paid anyone that wasn't royalty, it's unlikely he would hear Hubert anyway.

"Being  _ five _ doesn't mean you get to be such a  _ meanie!" _ Edelgard stomped her foot. "Hubert is  _ seven _ and he plays with me!"

Ferdinand's smile never faltered through the confusion in his eyes. "Who is Hubie?" Hubert cleared his throat. "Excuse you."

Hubert could feel a migraine coming on. 

Edelgard spun on her heel, stomping back behind Hubert. "Hubie!" Edelgard tugged on Hubert's sleeve, looking up to him with imploring lavender eyes. "Make Ferdie stop being such a meanie!"

With a wicked grin, Hubert rolled up his sleeves. "Of course, my lady."

Later, knuckles bloodied and eye swollen shut, Hubert found his older brother in the imperial chapel. The chapel was quiet, tall ceilings filled with empty space. The chapel’s only occupants were Seiros, her Saints, and Caleb von Vestra, deep in prayer at her altar.

The chapel laid in the east wing of the palace, near the emperor’s chambers. It was one of the oldest structures on the grounds, a remnant of the bond between Seiros and Willhelm I. It saw less use, now that the Church of Seiros held less sway in the empire. But Ionius IX still preserved it and led ceremonies in its chambers on Saint Seiros Day. It was a part of their great empire’s history, even as Adrestia changed.

Hubert’s footsteps echoed his arrival, rousing Caleb from his prayer. Caleb glanced over his shoulder, hands still clasped. He took one look at Hubert’s face and sighed.

Caleb rose to his knees with an ever suffering sigh.  _ “Now _ what have you done?”

Sound carried all the way from the altar. Hubert didn’t even have the decency to look ashamed, as he marched down the aisle past finely crafted pews. Caleb folded his arms, all but tapping his foot as he made Hubert walk to the marble altar. Hubert stopped before him, watching Caleb through his one good eye, and said nothing.

“Explain,” Caleb demanded, gesturing at Hubert’s face.

Hubert considered lying, telling Caleb he fell trying to reach a tall shelf or tripped over his own feet. However, that would do nothing to explain the scrapes on his knuckles. Besides, Caleb was far too good and telling when Hubert was fibbing.

“I got into a fight with Ferdinand,” Hubert admitted.

He didn’t even bother hiding his smile.

Caleb sighed, kneeling down to Hubert’s eye level. Caleb held Hubert’s sharp chin, turning it to better inspect the bruise blooming behind Hubert’s eye. Hubert’s right eye was swollen shut, dark purple staining his brow. The little bit of Hubert’s eye that  _ could _ be seen was stained red. Beyond his physical injuries, dirt, and grass-stained Hubert’s skin, clothes crumpled and torn. Yet still, Hubert managed to look smug.

Caleb hummed his displeasure, prodding the bruise with his thumb.

“You cannot just  _ punch _ the Prime Minister’s son, Hubert,” Caleb sighed.

Hubert’s smile bloomed like spider lily, broken blood vessels cracking on porcelain skin. “Lady Edelgard ordered me to. I had no choice.”

“Yes, and I see you’re heartbroken over it,” Caleb drawled. “I have half a mind not to heal you and see if that teaches you a lesson.”

“I wear my battle scars with pride for Lady Edelgard.” 

“Oh, stop.” Caleb pinched Hubert’s cheek, the one caked with dirt. “This isn’t  _ Faerghus,  _ you can’t solve everything through honorable combat.”

“Heidrun does.”

“Heidrun could beat both of us into the ground.” Caleb rolled his eyes. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but us Vestra men are terrible in a fight.” He pinched Hubert’s bicep. “No muscle.”

Hubert scowled, batting Caleb’s hand away. “Then what am I supposed to do?”

“You could start by  _ not _ punching the Prime Minister’s son.”

“He was asking for it.”

Caleb put both hands on the sides of Hubert’s face, ignoring Hubert’s hiss of pain. Caleb held Hubert still, two identical pairs of eyes locking.

“Lady Edelgard is  _ four. _ If she ordered you to punch the Emperor, would you?”

Hubert puffed out his chest, eyes never straying from his brother’s. “I will fight anyone for my lady.”

“And you’ll die trying, it seems.”

“It would be an honorable death.”

Caleb sighed, his hands starting to glow with the thrum of white magic. Caleb gently brushed his fingers over Hubert’s temple, ghosting over the swollen shut eye and the spider web scrapes in Hubert’s skin. Hubert closed his eyes at the brightness, letting the familiar warm glow of Caleb’s Faith knit his skin back together.

The warmth of a hearth in the middle of winter lay in Caleb’s Faith. An invisible hand brushed Hubert’s cheek, warming it with the glow of the sun. The Goddess looked down on them through Caleb’s Faith and Her smile banished his pain.

The swelling eased, the splash of blood in Hubert’s eye growing smaller and smaller until all that remained was the clear white of freshly fallen snow. It did nothing for the dirt in Hubert’s hair, or the grass staining his collar. Caleb’s hands returned to his sides.

“Who will protect your lady when you fall in battle?” Caleb asked.

For the first time, Hubert’s smug grin faded. Instead, it appeared on Caleb’s face, the corner of his mouth quirking up in the same way.

“Finally gotten through to you, have I?”

Hubert huffed, crossing his arms over his chest and looking away. He didn’t want to admit that Caleb was right.

Caleb sighed. “That’s why your life is so important. Anyone can  _ die  _ for Lady Edelgard.” Caleb gently folded Hubert’s hands into both of his own. “But you’re the only one that’s going to live for her.”

Hubert glared at their clasped hands, shame finally coloring his cheeks that once held bruises. “What does  _ that _ even mean?” he spat.

Caleb watched Hubert, as the boy’s brow furrowed and a fire lit behind his eyes. Hubert was so like their father, from the messy shock of pitch colored hair, to his piercing green eyes, to the sting of his tongue. And just like Arvid von Vestra, Hubert was far too quick to lash out in frustration.

“Have you ever watched Lord Elric and I work together?”

“Of course,” Hubert snapped.

It was a silly question. So much of Hubert’s training before Arvid had declared him ready to serve Lady Edelgard had involved watching his siblings. He was to shadow Caleb and Heidrun, observe how they carried out their lord’s will. Hubert had spent hours, observing Caleb and Lord Elric in court, following Caleb’s eyes as they scanned the crowd. Even now that he served his lady, it was impossible to avoid crossing paths with Caleb or Heidrun, as Lord Elric and Lady Adelaide led them across Enbarr.

“When you watch us what do you see?”

Hubert frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Caleb hummed, deep in thought. “How would you describe Lord Elric?” Hubert eyed Caleb dubiously. “In just a few words.”

Hubert didn’t know how this was supposed to help Lady Edelgard, but he closed his eyes, picturing the Crown Prince of Adrestia. Lord Elric von Hresvelg was tall, one of the eldest of the emperor’s children. He was the third born, over a decade older than Lady Edelgard, and the first to bear a crest.

From what little Hubert knew of his personality, he was gregarious, charming in both personality and looks, with long blonde hair olive skin. He bore his father’s strength and had caused a number of minor scandals in his youth by instigating fights. Adulthood had mellowed him, and he was far more likely to shake your hand than punch you in the stomach.

“Loud, charming… reckless,” Hubert finally settled on.

“And what about me?” Caleb prodded.

“Ugly and annoying.”

“Joke’s on you because we share the same genes.” Caleb flicked Hubert’s forehead. “Try again. Answer seriously this time.”

Hubert scowled. “You’re… helpful.” Hubert’s voice pinched, like it physically pained him to compliment his brother. “Smart. Still annoying.”

“I’ll let you get away with it this time,” Caleb said, warningly. “But yes. I’m smart, thank you for noticing.”

“See if I ever compliment you again.”

“I also would have accepted quiet, cautious, faithful.” Caleb made sure to meet Hubert’s eyes. “I’m those things because it’s what Lord Elric needs.”

“A pain in the ass?”

“You got one pass and you already used it.” Caleb pinched Hubert’s nose. “Lord Elric is reckless, you’re right. When we were younger he let his fists speak for him. And worst of all, he believes in the inherent good of humanity.”

Hubert didn’t quite understand what that meant, but Caleb spat the words from his mouth like poison.

“I have to be the caution that he lacks,” Caleb continued. “I heal scrapes on his knuckles, and I assume everyone he meets is trying to kill him.”

Hubert’s eyes widened in alarm. “Are they?”

“Of course not,” Caleb scoffed. “But Lord Elric is a kind fool that hands out his trust like it’s something that can be freely given.” Caleb splayed a hand over his chest. “So  _ I _ have to distrust in his place.”

“Wouldn’t it be better if His Highness learned not to be such a fool?”

Caleb clicked his tongue. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. That’s your future emperor, it’s practically treason.”

“But you just—!”

“I’m Lord Elric’s vassal, I can say those things. He is a fool, but he is  _ my _ fool.” 

There was ownership in Caleb’s voice that Hubert had never heard before. A possessiveness unbecoming of the gentle older brother that healed Hubert’s scrapes and bruises. The acidity faded from Caleb’s eyes, sickly yellow-green turning to olive, the color of summer grass.

“Lord Elric is great  _ because _ of his kindness, and the trust he shows his people. I would never ask him to change.” Caleb’s hands traveled to Hubert’s shoulders and  _ squeezed. _ “I turn bitter so that he can stay kind, I distrust so that he never has to.” 

Caleb looked up, to the chapel’s north-facing window. Green-tinted light streamed through a stained glass image of Saint Seiros. She held a sword in one hand, a shield in the other, her body enshrouded in a holy glow. Light fractured against Caleb’s face.

His hands began to glow. “I heal so that he can fight.”

Hubert stared into his brother’s eyes with new clarity, gears turning, a plan forming in his mind. “You give him what he lacks.”

“Exactly. So, little Hubert.” Caleb patted his brother’s cheek. “What is Lady Edelgard lacking?”

The next time Ferdinand dodged Edelgard’s invitation to tea, citing his duty to Crown Prince Elric, Hubert chose to go above Ferdinand’s head. He found Lord Elric on the prince’s favorite patio in the eastern gardens, overlooking Enbarr’s main thoroughfare.

Lord Elric looked up from the game of chess laid before him at the  _ tap tap tap _ of little footsteps. His eyes brightened as Edelgard rushed forward into his arms.

“Little El!” Elric scooped his sister up, squeezing her tight, even as she knocked over the pieces of his chess game.

“My Lord,” Caleb said from across the table.

“It’s fine, Caleb,” Elric said, waving him off.

“It really isn’t. Professor Aegelm will be very upset if you don’t come up with a viable military strategy by tonight.”

“Then I suppose that old bat will just have to shove it.” Elric turned his attention fully to Edelgard, sitting her up in his lap. “Now, what brings you to my corner of Enbarr?”

Hubert cleared his throat.

“Hm? Ah, yes. Humbert, was it?”

“Hubert von Vestra, Lady Edelgard’s vassal.” Hubert bowed deeply.

“Of course, Caleb’s brother?”

“Unfortunately,” Caleb sighed.

Hubert ignored him. “My Lady has a small favor to ask of you.”

“Does she now?” Elric smiled, turning back to the girl in his arms. He squeezed beneath her ribs, and Edelgard squealed in delight. “Name your price, and you shall have it.”

Hubert glanced over his shoulder, in the direction of the Imperial barracks, where the training grounds lay. If he had timed things right…

“Your sword work is sloppy.” For once, the normally grating voice of Duke Aegir was music to Hubert’s ears. “You’re too focused on form instead of function.”

“Yes, Father.”

From behind a tall hedge appeared the aforementioned Duke Aegir, followed dutifully by Ferdinand. Ferdinand was too focused on his own feet to notice the presence of imperial royalty, it seemed.

“Lord Elric,” Hubert boomed, voice swelling to fill the expanse of the palace gardens.

As expected, Ferdinand’s head turned on a swivel at the prince’s name.

“On behalf of Lady Edelgard, I humbly request that you allow Ferdinand to join us for tea this afternoon.” He bowed deeply, one hand tucked behind his back.

“Ah, hm… yes…” Hubert chanced a peek up at the prince, and the vacancy in Elric’s eyes told him he’d won. “Ferdinand who?”

From across the courtyard, Hubert watched Ferdinand's cheeks color with shame. 

Edelgard was young and precocious, too much iron will contained in her small body. Her goals and ambitions glimmered clearly in her mind's eye, but fog clouded the path. What Edelgard needed was a guide. Someone to take her desire and make it real. Someone to muddy through the darkness and lead her to light.

Hubert would be her beacon.

* * *

Hubert sat in his father’s study, back straight as a knife’s edge. Arvid’s office was very rarely open to the Vestra siblings. Even in a manor of secrets, shadows wreathed Arvid’s office. Hubert was  _ not _ to enter without his father’s blessing. Not just because of the secrets within, but for Hubert’s own safety.

Heidrun had tried to sneak into Arvid’s office once. She still bore a scar on the back of her hand. Her scream had rattled the walls of Nerium Manor. Arvid ran and found her not a step from the door, hand pinned to the wall with an arrow. Arvid had curtly pulled out the arrow, not caring for the tears Heidrun shed, then sent her to Isolde for proper healing. At dinner, Arvid had praised Heidrun for picking the lock but warned her that next time, his traps would not be so forgiving.

Arvid would spend long nights in his office, burning orange candle light peeking out from beneath the door. But no one dared disturb him. Arvid would disappear into his office for days at a time, leaving Isolde to handle the children. He would emerge with shadowed eyes and pallid skin. Isolde would sigh but pass a cup of coffee into his waiting hands regardless. No matter how she protested, Arvid was a man of duty. Once he was on the hunt, he could not be led astray.

Not even the Emperor himself knew exactly what occurred in this corner of Nerium. That was for Ionius’ own safety, Arvid would say, that some tasks were better kept to the shadows. Typically, the only people allowed inside were Arvid’s own spies or ministers Arvid wished to meet in secret.

The only times Arvid invited his children into his office were when he needed to give them a tongue lashing. Heidrun had been called in once after Adelaide’s fifth birthday. Heidrun had grown bored of the festivities and snuck out to watch the sky patrol. Little Adelaide curled up in one of the tea rooms to take a nap. Panic ensued when the guests realized Adelaide  _ and _ her retainer were missing.

Thankfully, the chaos drew a sleepy Adelaide out of hiding and Arvid found his daughter sitting on one of the balconies, eyes following a pair of wyverns in flight. The two had been safe, but Heidrun had been forced into remedial lessons for a month.

So Hubert sat under his father’s sharp, eagle eye, sweat beading on his brow. He racked his brain trying to dig up whatever grievous error he’d committed. Surely, if his crime was serious enough to warrant Arvid’s attention, he would remember it?

Nothing came to mind save his ongoing spat with Ferdinand. Was it treason to embarrass the Prime Minister’s son? Arvid had never mentioned such a thing, but maybe it was simply an unspoken rule. Caleb and Heidrun didn’t interact with Ferdinand enough for it to be an issue.

Staring down his nose at Hubert, Arvid watched panic play out over Hubert’s face. His son’s eyes darted about the room, sweat matting his bangs to his forehead. Arvid found it far more amusing that he should, no doubt. Arvid finally cleared his throat and Hubert jumped in his seat.

“Ferdinand started it!” he exclaimed.

Arvid cleared his throat to hide his laughter. “I did not bring you here to talk about the Prime Minister’s son.” He raised a razor’s edge eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like to tell me about Von Aegir?”

“No! Nothing!” Hubert squawked.

It was just as well. There was nothing Hubert could tell Arvid that Arvid did not already know.

Arvid folded his hands behind his back. “I did not bring you here to scold you, either.”

Hubert furrowed his brow. It struck Arvid as strange, seeing his own expression reflected back at him in miniature, buried beneath chubby cheeks.

“You didn’t?”

“No.” Arvid allowed his eyes to smile, even if his mouth didn’t follow. “Your tutors tell me you’re performing well.”

“My best, sir!”

Little Hubert was such an easy child compared to his siblings. Too much of Arvid himself flowed through Heidrun’s veins. His own cunning reflected in her deft fingers and piercing eyes. But too much of Arvid’s own stubborn will burned in her veins. To her, every order was a challenge. On the other hand, Caleb, if anything, was almost  _ too _ loyal. If word didn’t come from Elric’s own lips, it might as well have been silence. As a vassal, you could find no better. As a son, Caleb was infuriating.

Hubert’s temperament might change with age, but for now, Hubert was the best of both worlds. He was eager to please Edelgard and his parents in kind. Arvid had forgotten what it was like for a child to listen to his orders.

“As I’ve heard,” Arvid continued. “Your bladework has improved.”

Hubert’s eyes widened. “It has?”

“Adequately enough.”

In truth, Hubert’s combat tutor reported that he struggled with traditional swords. While less than ideal, Arvid wasn’t concerned. One didn’t need a sword to serve their liege. What was far more interesting was Hubert’s skill with a knife. In addition to traditional military weapons, all Vestra children were taught to wield a dagger. Where Hubert’s swordplay lacked, he made up for it with his daggers.

In the puzzle of Hubert von Vestra, his knife skill fit neatly into place. Hubert lacked the raw physical strength of his sister. He was lithe and svelte even as a child. Beneath a thin layer of baby fat and assassin’s body bloomed. He struggled to build muscle enough to swing a sword but Hubert’s long, spidery fingers suited the finesse of a dagger.

A sword needed strength behind it and endurance to keep swinging. A knife needed only one well-placed strike.

“I think you’re ready for the next step in your training.”

Hubert’s eyes immediately shone. “The next step?” He pushed his palms against his knees to keep from bouncing his little legs.

Arvid slid a pointed knife from his sleeve in one smooth flourish. He wrapped his hand around the hilt. Knife in hand, Arvid seemed more at ease than Hubert had ever seen him. Then Arvid tossed the knife in the air, catching the blade with his fingers. He held the knife out to Hubert, hilt first.

“Take it,” he ordered.

Hubert complied, wrapping his hand around the grip as his father had. It felt overlarge in his hand. Artisans that crafted real weapons for children were rare within the Empire. For now, Hubert would make do.

Hubert tested the knife in his hand, finding its balance. Despite being too large for Hubert’s hand, it was clearly an exceptional piece. Even Hubert’s inexperienced eye knew quality by the lightweight, sharpened metal and the supple leather around the hilt.

Arvid’s watched Hubert with his impenetrable gaze, analyzing Hubert’s every move. Arvid spent his life in wait, giving his enemies and allies just enough rope to hang themselves with. He would wait a lifetime for Hubert to make the first move. Hubert was rarely that patient.

“It’s a good knife,” Hubert said, searching for the right words to fill the silence.

He turned it over in his hand. Engraved on the guard, in calligraphic swirls, laid a V. The same V imprinted in red wax, on letters that ended bloodlines.

“It’s yours,” Arvid finally said.

Hubert looked up, eyes wide. “Mine?”

Arvid nodded sharply. “You know that as Lady Edelgard’s vassal, it is your duty to keep her safe?”

Hubert nodded vehemently. “Of course, Father!”

“And what do you know of how I protect our Emperor?” Arvid asked, his voice the edge of the blade in Hubert’s grasp. “How I protect his Empire?”

Hubert hesitated, words caught in his throat. His face paled, eyes darting away from his father’s. Arvid showed no such shame. Arvid took a seat on his desk, one long leg crossed over the other, hands clasped over his knee. This way, he was closer to Hubert’s eye level, meeting him as an equal, one vassal to another.

He gestured for Hubert to continue. “Tell me. You may speak plainly.”

“I have… heard a little…” Hubert looked down at his lap, still refusing to meet his father’s eye. “They say… you do bad things.”

Arvid almost laughed. “Bad” was an understatement to the crimes Arvid had committed, the rights he had violated in the names of Emperor Ionius. He would do them again. As many times as necessary to protect those he loved.

“It’s true,” Arvid said flippantly. “And I will do many more. I am not ashamed of what I’ve done in the name of my Emperor.”

Hubert fidgeted in his seat. Servitude was easy when it only required stealing sweet buns from the larder and holding tea parties in the garden. When it meant bloodstained hands and tortured screams, loyalty was much harder.

Arvid leveled him with a piercing stare. “One day you will need to do terrible things, too, in Lady Edelgard’s name.” There was no use in sugarcoating what waited in Hubert’s future.

Arvid nodded to the knife in Hubert’s shaking hands. “That is one tool to that end.”

The glint of steel drew Hubert’s gaze like a moth to a flame. Hubert opened his mouth to speak, but his words caught on his tongue.

“But.” Arvid stood sharply. “That day is far, far off.”

He walked to Hubert’s side, unbuttoning Hubert’s cuff and pushing the sleeve up over his elbow. “For now, I simply want you to learn.” He tipped Hubert’s chin up to level him with a stern glare. “I don’t want to hear about you stabbing the Prime Minister’s son, do you understand me?”

Arvid strapped a modified sheath to Hubert’s forearm. “What if he deserves it?” Hubert asked.

Arvid snapped the leather against Hubert skin, earning a wince. “Lord Ferdinand may be obnoxious but if I hear you’ve wounded him you will be back in my office and this time I  _ will _ be angry, do you understand?”

“So you agree he’s annoying!”

“Hubert.”

Hubert sighed. “Yes, Father.”

“Good boy.”

Arvid’s eyes warmed, even as his mouth remained a thin line. He pulled Hubert’s sleeve down, over the knife strapped to his arm. Hubert eyed his sleeve curiously, flexing his arm, testing the feel of the leather on his skin.

“Now I want to see you practice drawing it.”

Hubert looked up at him with furrowed brow. He reached into his sleeve with the opposite hand. Arvid slapped his hand away.

“No,” he said sharply.

Arvid drew another knife, this one from the opposite sleeve he’d produce Hubert’s. His fingers moved swiftly, in one fluid motion. In the blink of an eye, he held a knife in hand, where before there was none.

“Like this.”

Hubert tried again. And again, and again, and again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha this is so cute and fun it would be horrible if..... something happened
> 
> No real warnings this time, except children playing with knives!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert and Edelgard grow up like flowers blooming in the sun. But all is not as it seems within the Empire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sets up my OCs like a line of dominos* look at all these happy children
> 
> see the end notes for more detailed warnings

Of all Edelgard's siblings, Edelgard was closest to Lady Adelaide. Only two years older, Adelaide was more of a friend than any of the others. She was also the third of the imperial siblings that bore a crest, second in line for the throne.

It was good for the sisters, that they had someone to understand their struggle.

"Nobody wants to play swords with me!" Edelgard wailed.

Grass tickled Edelgard's calves where she sat cross-legged on the ground. They were in the arboretum; thick, Adrestian trees broke the flat planes of the imperial gardens. It was a quiet place, well kept but less sanitized. Wildflowers sprouted between tangled cypress roots, a family of starlings nested in the branches. Surrounded by nature, one could almost forget they were in the beating heart of the Empire.

"Why ever not?" Adelaide asked, deft fingers weaving a ring of yellow anemone.

"They say I hit too hard!" Edelgard tore out fistfuls of grass. "But I can't help it!"

Hubert sat against a thick umbrella pine, hiding in the shade of its boughs. He faced Edelgard and Adelaide, as the princesses picked wildflowers. A warm zephyr breezed through the palace gardens, blown all the way from the harbor. Golden sunlight lit ancient stonework, turning Enbarr into a glimmering jewel on the southern tip of F ódlan.

"Yes, our gift can be unpredictable at the best of times." Adelaide sighed with the wind. The sun set her auburn curls ablaze. "Still, I understand your friends. It's no fun to get hurt when they just want to play."

"But I want to play, too!"

"That is part of the reason I have always preferred magic. Our crest doesn’t work with it." Adelaide held the chain of flowers aloft in her hands, measuring the length. "What about the other crest bearing children?”

“The only one is Ferdie, and  _ he _ says it wouldn’t be noble to fight a lady.”

“That sounds like someone who is scared to get beaten.” Adelaide hummed, tongue poking between her lips as she wound a difficult stem around her finger. “What about that Hevring boy?”

Edelgard wrinkled her nose like she smelled something disgusting. “Linhardt is a  _ baby.” _

“You were a baby once, too, you know.” Adelaide laid the flower wreath down in her lap to free her hands, tapping a finger to her chin. “Some people would even say you still  _ are.” _

Edelgard chucked a handful of grass at her sister. “I’m not a baby!”

“Of course not!” Adelaide giggled, her laughter a birdsong.

Edelgard ripped more grass out of the ground, dropping it into the lap of her skirt. “Besides, all Linhardt does is sleep.”

Adelaide’s laughter turned to a gentle smile, hazel eyes brimming with empathy. “It can be hard.” Edelgard nodded, eyes downcast. “But you have me. And you have Elric, and Nuallan, and all the others.”

“None of you want to play with me either.”

Adelaide cocked her head. “No? What are we doing right now?”

“Braiding flowers is  _ fine _ but I wanna play swords! And knights, and princesses!”

“I suppose you would.” Adelaide sighed. “That really is not my type of game.”

In a sea of Hresvelg children, Adelaide stood apart. Not only for the Crest of Seiros etched in her blood, but for a benevolent tranquility that nobles rarely held. For all that Crown Prince Elric was boisterous and loud, Adelaide was gentle and meek. Should the emperor allow it, Adelaide would find her happiness in these trees. Birdsong would wake her every morning, and the break of waves against the harbor would rock her to sleep.

The thrill of combat never found purchase in Adelaide’s soul. If Heidrun did her job, it would never have to.

“Elric is too busy,” Edelgard continued. “And Nuallan doesn’t like me.”

“Now, why do you think that?”

“He said it’s not fair that I’m more important just because I have a crest.”

Adelaide deflated with a long sigh. “It hardly matters, anyway.” She picked up the crown of red and gold in her lap. “Elric will ascend the throne and none of us will ever sit upon it.”

Adelaide’s soft, delicate fingers wove a crown of flowers, uncalloused by the hilt of a blade. Peace suited her, Hubert thought.

“Regardless.” Adelaide gently lowered the makeshift circlet over the crown of Edelgard’s head.

It settled just on Edelgard’s hairline, a radiant gem of red valerian in the center. 

Adelaide continued. “You have me.” She glanced at Hubert with a smile. “And Hubert, of course.”

Hubert couldn’t help the smile curling at the edge of his mouth. Edelgard followed Adelaide’s eyes, and when her gaze locked with Hubert’s, Edelgard's face lit like the brightest flame.

"Eyes up!”

“Wha—?”

Twin hammers crashed into Hubert’s shoulder blades. Death swooped in from above, a pendulum cut loose from the tree’s branches. Hubert’s bones crumpled, like a paper doll folding in on itself. Sharp heels dug into the meat of his back, pinning him to a bed of wild snapdragons. Hubert scrabbled against the ground; his nails scratched into the dirt as his arms strained to push  _ up. _ A hand settled on the back of his head, a silent threat.

“Too slow, little brother.”

Adelaide glanced up at Hubert’s indignant squawk. A slip of a girl perched on the small of Hubert’s back, bony knees bracketing his spine. Mirth darkened the void of her eyes, twisting the corner of her mouth to reveal a toothy grin. 

“Ah, Heidrun,” Adelaide said blithely. “There you are.”

Hubert squirmed beneath Heidrun’s weight, trying to find enough purchase to slip out from her grasp. “Get…  _ off,” _ he groused, voice distorted by a shroud of grass.

Heidrun put more weight on her hand, shoving his face into the dirt. “You’ll never be a good retainer if you can’t even check a few trees.”

Hubert tried pushing  _ again,  _ using the flat of his palm and digging in with the point of his toe. His forearms and calves burned with the effort, teeth grinding. But Heidrun didn’t budge an inch, settled securely on Hubert’s back. Hubert collapsed with a groan, resigning himself to his fate.

_ “Fine,”  _ he bit out reluctantly. “I get it, now get  _ off.” _

“I dunno… you don’t sound very sorry,” Heidrun hummed, tapping her chin with her free hand. “It’s the princesses’ lives you were risking, after all.”

Hubert didn’t need to look to know the smug leer curling on Heidrun’s lips. It was the same one he saw in the sharp glint of their father’s canines, the flash of a hidden blade in the shadows. The same one he saw in his own reflection.

“It really is fine,” Adelaide cut in, gently. “We were just playing.”

“But my lady, what if there were a  _ real  _ assassin lurking in the trees?” Heidrun put on her best mockery of offense. “I think Hubie could do with a little more  _ diligence. _ ”

At the word “assassin” a hush fell over the four children. Adelaide’s eyes fell to her hands, wringing anxiously in her lap. Hubert ceased his struggle, the will ripped from his bones. Heidrun didn’t care to impart any lessons concerning his duty. Her only goal was to disturb him. Even so, she’d succeeded. Hubert’s soul shriveled up, curdling at the notion of just how badly he’d failed Lady Edelgard.

Edelgard just watched in confusion, eyes darting between the three elder children.

“What’s a  _ sassy hen?”  _ Edelgard asked.

“They are bad people, El,” Adelaide said gently.

“Very,  _ very  _ bad,” Heidrun agreed. “They’re people that would hurt little princesses like you.”

Edelgard furrowed her brow, lips pouting as they always did when adults talked about matters she couldn’t understand. “Why would someone do that?”

“Because bad people do bad things.” Adelaide folded her hands in her lap. “But as long as Hubert is with you, you will be safe.”

“Which is  _ why…” _ Heidrun dug her knee into Hubert’s back, earning a grunt of annoyance. “...our dear Hubie should apologize.”

Hubert had no qualms apologizing to Edelgard or Adelaide for any errors, whether real or perceived. He would rather cut out his tongue than apologize to Heidrun. He tried shifting again, wondering if he could dig out enough earth beneath him to roll away.

“Heidrun, please,” Adelaide said, voice strained.

Hubert squirmed again beneath his sister’s weight. She leered over him, a cat playing with its prey.

“I didn’t hear the magic word,” Heidrun taunted, breath stinging the back of Hubert’s neck.

“Heidrun!” Adelaide finally shouted. “Let him go!”

Both Heidrun and Hubert startled. Heidrun met Adelaide’s eyes, dark pupils blown wide. All the smug levity evaporated from Heidrun’s face the moment meek Adelaide raised her voice. But still, Heidrun lingered, a dog sizing up its master. A whole conversation passed between the two girls in a span of moments, while Hubert still sprawled on the ground.

Finally, the pressure eased. “As you say, my lady.”

Heidrun slid off Hubert’s back, oil stripped from water. He drew in a long breath, lungs rushing to expand now that Heidrun’s weight was gone. Hubert shot up, brushing the dirt from his clothes, desperate to recover some semblance of pride. Next time, Heidrun would have to work harder to catch him off guard.

He shot his sister a glare, but it bounced off her skin like a pebble. She only had eyes for Lady Adelaide, it seemed.

The tension in Adelaide’s shoulders eased. “Thank you.”

“No thanks needed.” Heidrun dipped her head in an informal bow, dark, cropped bangs falling forward. “It is my duty to serve.”

* * *

Isolde von Vestra would tell Hubert that he never slept through the night, not even as a baby. She insisted they had to keep a lock on the nursery, or little Hubert would find a method of escape, whether he had to crawl, walk, or run to get there. He had no memory of it, but Hubert vividly remembered the picture his mother’s words painted, of little Hubert, curled in the kennel with the hunting dogs come morn. 

Hubert didn’t know where the truth lay within his mother’s stories. But even now, Hubert rarely slept through the night, and come the light of day he had likely been awake for hours. He was prone to wander the halls of Nerium Manor, an apparition drifting through the shadows.

Nerium Manor was old, even by Enbarr’s standards. It stood the test of time, ever since the first Vestra to stand at the emperor’s side had requested a separate home. Nerium was a place to raise a family and a place to end others. The walls held a thousand years of memories, of lives lived and lives ended. Hundreds of years of strife, of servitude, and  _ bloodshed _ in the name of the Empire.

Hubert touched the wall with his hand and all that blood became his own.

_ “Halt,” _ a voice hissed from the shadows.

For a moment, Hubert heard the voices of the past calling to him.

“Hubert!” the voice hissed again.

He snapped out of his daze, suddenly all too aware of the hand on his shoulder and the warmth of his brother’s eyes. Hubert took in his surroundings, the Adrestian banner on the wall, the north-facing windows. He stood in the hallway just outside his father’s study. It was pitch dark, faint moonlight Hubert’s only guide.

“Why are you up?” Hubert whispered, almost scared to break the stillness.

“I could ask the same,” Caleb shot back, his voice a clear warning. “You almost blew my cover.”

“What?”

Caleb’s only response was to shake his head, a silent finger held to his lips. He took Hubert’s hand, leading him around the corner to the nearest closet. Nerium Manor held a thousand years of life, stories of untold bloodshed, and secrets that even Arvid wasn’t aware of. Some of them were as simple as a trick closet.

Caleb dug his finger in between two pieces of wood on the closet floor. Eventually, there was an audible  _ click _ , and a piece of the floor gave way, revealing the foundation of Nerium Manor. Caleb helped Hubert in first, before following himself. Caleb closed the trapdoor behind them with another  _ click. _

Where before the moonlight shone the way, now there was only darkness. Hubert’s small frame was able to crawl on hands and knees, but Caleb had to shuffle on his stomach, belly dragging through the hard clay below. Still, Caleb moved with unnatural grace, a snake slithering beneath the floorboards. Where Caleb was a snake, Hubert was a rat, skittering awkwardly on all fours, struggling not to bump into support beams.

Hubert struggled to keep up, Caleb always teetering just on the edge of darkness. If Hubert stumbled, he’d lose sight of him. And then it would just be him, alone in this impenetrable darkness.

He heard voices in the distance, muffled through the layers of wood and stone. As he followed Caleb deeper into the bowels of their home, the voices grew. One struck a familiar chord in his brain, but the other was one he heard every day.

_ “What … suggest … treason …” _

Hubert stopped in his tracks at his father’s voice.

_ “Did … see …. Hrym?” _

That was the other voice, the one vaguely familiar, calling to him from the other side of the fog.

Caleb glanced back at Hubert, hurriedly waving him forward. The strange voice continued on.

_ “... killed…” _

Hubert did his best to crawl faster, disregarding the mud caking under his nails and the painful scrape of his knees on stone.

“Who is that?” Hubert hissed.

“The Prime Minister.” Hubert felt Caleb’s glare even through the darkness. “Now  _ shut up.” _

They rounded a corner, and streaks of orange candlelight pierced through the floorboards overhead. Hubert guessed they were beneath Father’s study, hiding like rats in the walls. The two boys settled, peering up at vague shadows through the floorboards.

_ “... everyone! Even the children!” _

The dank, humid darkness clung to Hubert’s shoulders, a shroud to keep out the light. With every exhale, stagnant air swelled to fill the empty space in Hubert’s lungs.

Arvid’s only response was a viscous, humorless laugh, sticking to Hubert’s skin like oil.

_ “I have eyes in every house in the empire,” _ Arvid hissed.  _ “You think I do not know what happened to Hrym? You think I did not give out the order myself?” _

His father’s words slithered into Hubert’s ear, biting into the back of his neck and refusing to let go. For the first time, Hubert feared his father’s cruelty.

Duke Aegir hesitated, and the darkness pulsed in the silence. How long had it been since the surface encroached upon this darkness? Had this air fermented here, trapped in the abyss beneath Nerium Manor for a thousand years?

Was Hubert sharing breath with ghosts?

_ “What makes you think you will be spared when the time comes?”  _ Aegir asked, shaky voice betraying his fear.

Wood gouging into wood. Closed fist striking stone. 

_ “Because I am  _ loyal!” Arvid bellowed, rattling the clay beneath Hubert’s palms.

Or maybe those were just his bones.

_ “And what price will you pay for that loyalty?” _ Duke Aegir challenged.  _ “Your life?” _

_ “Without question.” _

_ “Your soul in the eyes of the Goddess?” _

That same oily chuckle seeped into Hubert’s ear.  _ “I gave up hope of salvation  _ long  _ ago.” _

_ “Your children?” _

Nothing.

Then a breezy, incredulous bark of a laugh.  _ “So the Emperor’s Hound has a weakness after all!”  _ Duke Aegir huffed.  _ “You are not just an ill-bred cur after all.” _

_ “Leave.” _ Footsteps, shadows cutting across the light peeking through the floorboards.  _ “Get out of my home!” _

Retreating, Duke Aegir’s voice began to travel.  _ “Fine. But don’t think this is over.” _

A crash, shattering glass.  _ “If I hear one  _ whisper _ of this again, I will have you hanged in Grenadine Square.” _

Aegir’s voice faded into the distance, swallowed by the darkness.  _ “And who ... think ... come for ...?” _

The pair’s footsteps faded into the bowels of Nerium Manor. Silence returned, a funeral pall cloaking Caleb and Hubert’s shoulders. The void swallowed any remnants of the sharp words exchanged, glass shattered, and bridges burned. All the remained of Aegir and Vestra’s meeting were memories, consumed by the darkness beneath.

Little did they know of the creatures slithering in the dark.

* * *

Warm, hibiscus scented tea poured from the kettle.  _ Glug, glug, glug.  _ Just as the teacup filled to the brim, Hubert righted the pot. He stirred in two cubes of sugar, and gently lowered a single lavender blossom into the brew; a soft note of purple against bright, vibrant pink.

He passed the saucer to Edelgard. The widening of her eyes and the sparkle therein were all the praise Hubert ever needed.

“Thank you, Hubert,” Edelgard said, gently taking the teacup in both of her hands.

“Yes, thank you, Hubert,” Ferdinand called from across the table.

Hubert shot him a withering glare, though it lacked the same intensity as it used to. Hubert pointedly handed the teapot to Ferdinand, without pouring his tea. If Ferdinand noticed the slight, his sunny smile showed nothing to indicate it. A burgeoning headache throbbed behind Hubert’s eyebrow.

He busied himself by tending to Edelgard. “A sweet bun, my lady?”

Edelgard nodded sheepishly as Hubert plated the treat and laid it next to her tea. Hubert had seen to the task of swiping some sweet buns from the palace kitchens. Despite the Vestra family’s reputation, the cooks held a soft spot for children with doe eyes and rose-tinted cheeks. There was no weakness Hubert was not willing to exploit for his lady.

Ferdinand perked up. “May I have a sweet bun?”

“All out, I’m afraid,” Hubert said cheerily.

Ferdinand pouted but didn’t press the issue further. He settled for holding his teacup in one hand, pinky raised. Dressed in a finely tailored suit, hair tied back at the nape of his neck, Ferdinand could almost be mistaken for a tiny adult.

“So, Edelgard,” Ferdinand started.

_ “Lady  _ Edelgard.”

Ferdinand barreled onward. “Have you met young Princess Herleva?”

Edelgard mouth thinned into a firm line, eyes burning a hole through her teacup. “Yes.”

Hubert coughed into his fist, struggling to hide his laughter. “Now, surely it was not  _ that _ unpleasant.”

“I never said it was  _ unpleasant,” _ Edelgard said defensively.

“You did not have to,” Ferdinand chimed in, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Your expression said everything for you.”

“You really need to work on concealing your emotions, my lady,” Hubert chastised gently.

“I can’t help it!” Edelgard exclaimed. “Everyone was so  _ excited _ for the baby but she’s entirely unpleasant!”

Ferdinand met Hubert’s gaze over the table. Amber eyes twinkled with a spark of amusement. Hubert frowned, but for once found himself agreeing with the future Prime Minister.

“I remember when my sister, Eleanora, was born.” Ferdinand sighed wistfully. “I felt much the same.”

Hubert raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You were barely a year old.”

“Yes? And?”

“You do  _ not _ remember something from when you were a baby.”

“Yes, I do!” Ferdinand insisted. “My mother says I have an excellent memory!”

“Your mother is a liar. No one remembers being one.”

“And yet! My memory of my sister’s birth is crystal clear! Why, I even remember my own birth!”

“Now you’re just trying to annoy me,” Hubert huffed.

Hubert downed his cup of tea, ending the spat. There was no use in arguing with Ferdinand. Any time evidence proved him wrong, he simply dug in his heels. If Hubert allowed the conversation to continue, Ferdinand would no doubt claim to remember his conception, as well.

“All Eva does is sleep and cry!” Edelgard grumbled.

Edelgard had grown accustomed to speaking over Hubert and Ferdinand’s debates. Their familiar drone barely ranked higher than background noise.

“She would get along well with Linhardt, then!” Ferdinand said pleasantly.

Edelgard simply shrugged, eyes downcast. Absentmindedly, she tore the sweet bun in half, then in half again, and so on. When the pieces were no bigger than the pads of her fingers, she dropped them into her lap, collecting them in the dip of her skirt.

Hubert frowned, fishing another sweet bun out of his sleeve. “What you are feeling is perfectly understandable. The last time you gained a sibling, you were too young to remember it.” He pressed the pastry into Edelgard’s hands. “However, you are still Lady Edelgard von Hresvelg, third in line for the throne.”

Edelgard shrugged again. “I suppose. All anyone wants to talk about now is the  _ new princess.” _

Hubert shot Ferdinand an icy glare.

Ferdinand paid no mind to Hubert, speaking with the same brightness he always did. “Then let us talk about something else!” He took a small sip of his tea. “I hear that Lord Elric will be leaving for the monastery next year.”

Edelgard’s eyes glazed over. Much like everyone wanted to ask about her youngest sibling, they also loved to discuss the future emperor.

“Yes. He is,” she said curtly.

“I am sure he must be excited! Only the most noble elites can attend Garreg Mach. It is vital to make connections between our nations.”

Hubert scowled. “Lord Elric is attending Garreg Mach to  _ learn _ not to rub shoulders with vapid nobility.”

“You disparage the quality of forming friendships despite how it can aid our nation.” Ferdinand getsured wildly with his hands, nearly knocking over the teapot. “Many nobles even meet their future spouses at Garreg Mach. Is it not true that the Emperor met your mother there?”

“Lord Elric is  _ certainly _ not attending to find a  _ wife,” _ Hubert spat.

Ferdinand barreled on, undeterred. “I for one cannot wait—”

“Ferdinand!” An irate voice called.

Ferdinand whirled in his seat. “Miss Handzel?”

Ferdinand’s tutor crossed her arms, leveling him with an icy glare. “Young Master, you are  _ late.” _

Ferdinand glanced to the sun, seeing it had made its way far past its zenith into the afternoon. Ferdinand leapt from his chair.

“Hubert!” he exclaimed. “I asked you to watch the time for me!”

Hubert folded his arms with a smug smile. “Hm. It must have slipped my mind.”

_ “Oh,  _ you fiend!” Ferdinand rushed to his tutor. “Miss Handzel I am  _ so _ sorry…”

Ferdinand’s incessant apologies dimmed, as he and his tutor made their way back to the palace. Edelgard sipped her tea thoughtfully, watching them go. For a minute, silence fell over their tea table in Ferdinand’s wake.

Finally, Edelgard set down her cup. “That was unnecessary, Hubie.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

_ “Hubert.” _

“I simply forgot.”

“I’m fairly certain you’ve never forgotten anything in your life”

“Then it seems Ferdinand and I have something in common,” Hubert grumbled.

Edelgard couldn’t help but giggle into her teacup. “I suppose it’s alright. I do not like the way he treats you.”

Hubert shrugged. “It matters little to me.” A smile tugs at the corner of Hubert’s mouth. “As long as I don’t have to listen to him.”

“You do not,” she confirmed, delighted mirth in her eyes.

“Then I will endure Ferdinand’s presence as much as you require.”

Edelgard’s smile dimmed as she sighed into her teacup. “Ferdinand is not  _ so _ bad. He is certainly charming.”

“In the way that a lame horse is, I agree.”

Edelgard chose to ignore him. “He is just… misguided.” She rolled her eyes. “He sounds like all the other nobles telling my brother to find a wife.”

“I am sure he’s parroting what he’s heard from his father.”

“Of that, I have no doubt.” Edelgard scowled. “As if any of us will have a say in who we marry."

Hubert wasn't sure if Edelgard meant her and her siblings, or Ferdinand and Hubert themselves. He supposed it didn't matter either way. The result was the same. None of them would be in control of their futures.

* * *

In Lone Moon of Caleb’s seventeenth year, he and Lord Elric set off for Garreg Mach Monastery. It was customary during peacetime for the heirs of Adrestia, Faerghus, and Leicester to train at the monastery. Emperor Ionius IX decreed that it was time for Elric to set foot outside the empire. To train, grow, and return to Adrestia a better man.

As Elric’s vassal, Caleb was honor-bound to attend at his side.

“Have you checked the Prince’s saddlebags?” Arvid asked pointedly.

Caleb stood outside the imperial stables, holding the horses he and Elric were to take by the reins. Elric’s favored mount, a regal chestnut mare named Lues, wore a regal golden banner over her back. She was packed light, with only a bedroll and a couple of saddlebags. In contrast, Caleb’s dark bay mare, Adama, bore most of their gear. Both horses seemed to sense today was special, pawing at the ground nervously, eager to take off.

Caleb, haggard despite the early hour, rolled his eyes. “Yes, father. Three times.”

“And you calculated the rations for the trip? And packed extra?”

“No, I was planning to hunt wild boar once we reach Bergliez.” Alarm flashed in Arvid’s eyes. “Of course I checked the rations, Father. Do you want to make sure I wrote my name on the inside of my underwear, as well?”

Arvid’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click, corners of his mouth pinched. “You are treading dangerously close to insubordination,” he warned.

“The only man I answer to is my liege.”

Despite the lines on his face, Arvid couldn’t stymie the glow of pride in his eyes. Arvid inhaled slowly, lifting a hand to his brow. He shielded view, taking a moment to compose himself and suppress the emotion branded into the back of his eyes.

“You’ve trained me well,” Caleb assured him. “From now on I’m going to be tending to Lord Elric on my own. Your assistance, though appreciated, is unnecessary.”

Arvid exhaled, letting his hand fall to his side. When Caleb met his eyes, he found them the same piercing, unflappable green they always were. Caleb flashed him a charming grin, stolen right from Lord Elric’s playbook.

“I suppose you’re right,” Arvid sighed, an impenetrable stone wall just beginning to crumble.

“Does that mean I can talk back to Father, too?” Heidrun piped up from his right.

Arvid shot her a withering glare. “You’ve hardly ever needed permission for that.”

Bone-white canines flashed in Heidrun’s answering smile. Caleb turned his eyes to Hubert, who lurked behind their father, trying to avoid detection. As soon as the young prince arrived, there would be no end to the curious onlookers, desperate to catch the attention of royalty. When that happened, Hubert planned to fade into the background.

He had no use for attention. If anything, it only made his job harder. Better than to avoid it entirely, to blend into a featureless sea.

“Hubert,” Caleb called, beckoning the young boy closer.

The fog of sleep dissipated from Hubert’s eyes, focusing on Caleb. Hubert scowled, stepping forward reluctantly. It was clear he’d rather be anywhere else at this early hour.

“What?” Hubert asked sharply.

“No goodbye for your favorite brother?” Caleb asked.

Had he not been holding two anxious horses, he no doubt would have opened his arms for a hug. Fortunately for Hubert, the horses kept him effectively pinned down.

“Goodbye,” Hubert said curtly. “Try not to embarrass yourself.”

"Funny, coming from the boy who punched the future prime minister."

"Caleb!" Arvid barked curtly.

"Apologies, I forgot myself." The sparkle of mirth in Caleb's eye vanished, cold steel erected in its place. That weight was unfamiliar in Caleb's eyes. "What's your first duty?"

Hubert didn't even pause to think. "To serve my lady."

"And your second?"

"To live for her."

Relief flooded Caleb's face, the dam crumbling behind his eyes. “Good boy.” He leaned forward, making sure to lock with Hubert’s mirrored gaze. “Don’t forget that. Stay vigilant.”

The gravity of Caleb’s gaze weighed on Hubert’s shoulders. Like all those moments at court, watching his father share knowing glances with the emperor, Hubert knew he lacked a vital piece of the puzzle. He could assemble the clues in his mind, map them, string them together, and begin to see the picture they formed. But when he pulled away, darkness swallowed the most important part.

Despite that, Hubert nodded. “Always.”

The  _ clank _ of greaves on stone heralded the prince’s arrival. “Thank you for the escort, gentlemen, Caleb can accompany me the rest of the way,” Elric said, dismissing the imperial guards at his side.

Lord Elric swept into the stables like a Blue Sea breeze, scarlet red cape hanging off one shoulder, golden hair braided down his back. He walked like a bard taking the stage, flashing a radiant smile to every servant and vassal in attendance. Instead of reflecting the morning sun, Elric seemed to be its source, brightening even the darkest shadows. If Enbarr was a jewel, then Lord Elric was its light.

When Elric’s eyes found Caleb’s, they softened. Instead of a bright star, Elric became a spotlight illuminating Caleb’s face. Caleb straightened in his lord’s presence, holding himself at attention. Like Elric, his world narrowed to one man. Caleb passed Lues’s reins to Elric, lingering too long on the brush of their hands.

Elric tore his eyes away from Caleb, once again spilling light in all directions. Hubert shied away, taking the opportunity to merge with the background. He returned to his father’s sides, leaving Caleb and Elric to themselves.

Elric patted a strong hand on his mare’s neck. “How fares my fine lady this morning?” Elric laughed, beaming at Lues, as if she could share his joy.

“Eager to get moving,” Caleb sighed, grateful to have passed the anxious mare back to her rider.

Elric briefly touched his forehead to Lues’s nose. “Then we are of the same mind!” Elric turned his sunbeam smile back to Caleb. “Let us make haste! While the sun burns bright!”

Caleb bowed. “Of course, my lord.” Caleb waved over a stablehand to give Elric a boost.

As Caleb waited for Elric to climb into the saddle, Arvid stepped forward. “Caleb.” He placed a firm hand on his eldest’s shoulders. “Remember…”

Caleb huffed in exasperation. “My first duty is to my lord for his will is my own, my second duty is to survive for I am my lord’s most valuable weapon,” he recited. “Does that cover everything?”

Arvid stared at his oldest son, mirth threatening to curl the corner of his mouth. “I was going to remind you to keep yourself safe.” Something flashed in the depth of his eyes, then disappeared in the space of a heartbeat. “And return to us,”

Caleb’s brow softened, meeting his father’s gaze. Caleb was still a boy, on the cusp of becoming a man. So much of his and Elric’s story had yet to be written, This was the start.

“I will make you proud, Father.”

The hand on Caleb’s shoulder held tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: hubert gets his face shoved in the dirt, some implied child death happens offscreen
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/aceyuurikatsuki)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of letters sent from Garreg Mach to House Vestra.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yup nothing to see here but children being children
> 
> see end notes for detailed warnings

> _ Day 23 of Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1170 _
> 
> _ To House Vestra, _
> 
> _ Garreg Mach Monastery is a strange place. Stepping through its gates is akin to stepping back in time. The stonework resembles that of the old church to Cethleann on the edge of Enbarr, overlooking the southern sea. Standing in the grand chapel, singing hymns to the Goddess, I can almost pretend I am home. _
> 
> _ But the monastery is much colder than our jewel of a city. Much quieter, too. It is strange to wake and hear perfect stillness, rather than the bustle of the market outside the palace district. I never thought I would miss it, and yet… _
> 
> _ Lord Elric is fine, I know you were wondering. He has taken to the other nobles in the way I knew he would. I have tried to impress upon him that at least some of his new friends are likely aiming to use him for his status. He ignores me, as he always has. Do not worry, I am researching all the nobles in our year. If he will not look out for his own safety, then I will do it for him. _
> 
> _ Regards, _
> 
> _ Caleb von Vestra _
> 
> _ P.S. Happy birthday, Hubert. I’ve enclosed a small game I found in the markets outside the monastery. Hopefully, Lady Edelgard will play it with you. _

* * *

> _ Day 12 of Harpstring Moon, Imperial Year 1170 _
> 
> _ To House Vestra, _
> 
> _ As you have no doubt already heard, the Black Eagles did not secure victory at last month’s mock battle. I have submitted a full report of tactical errors and revisions for the next battle to our Professor. The short version is this: Lord Elric is a massive distraction on the battlefield. _
> 
> _ It is not enough that every other member of our house clings to his side like limpets. No, my Lord insists on showing off his martial prowess by breaking formation and punching the enemy with his bare hands. His  _ hands!  _ Being our only healer, I am forced to follow after him and let the Deer’s archers use me as a pincushion. _
> 
> _ Can you tell that I am bitter? _
> 
> _ I have since recovered from my injuries. I even got to keep the arrowhead that pierced my thigh. Lord Elric was kind enough to stay by my side while I healed, despite my urging. Now that I am on my feet again, my Lord has asked me to join him on runs around the monastery. He says it will increase my speed so that in future battles I will not be such an easy target. _
> 
> _ Pray for me. _
> 
> _ Regards, _
> 
> _ Caleb von Vestra _

* * *

Hubert found himself leaning against the practice arena, observing Adelaide and Edelgard’s riding lesson while Ferdinand blathered on at his side.

“Look at that form!” Ferdinand gasped, awestruck as Brunhild trotted around the arena. “Lady Adelaide is truly a skilled rider.”

Hubert had quickly learned that whether he spoke mattered little to the other boy. Ferdinand would continue his running commentary of Adelaide’s performance whether Hubert chimed in or not. It seemed Ferdinand truly loved the sound of his own voice.

“Stop gaping,” Hubert snapped. “You’ll catch flies.”

Ferdinand scoffed. “You have no appreciation for fine horsemanship.”

“You’re right. I don’t.”

Ferdinand pouted, looking like a kicked puppy despite his noble attire. Part of Hubert wanted to punch him just to wipe that annoying look off his face. But after last time, he had been strictly banned from punching any heirs of House Aegir.

That didn’t mean he  _ wouldn’t,  _ just that he’d need a good reason.

“How can you not appreciate such noble beasts?” Ferdinand spoke as if Hubert had insulted Ferdinand’s entire family line.

Hubert recognized the value of a well-bred horse, certainly. They were versatile animals, vital to the empire’s function. They allowed for travel across long distances, the transportation of trade goods, and carried the empire’s soldiers into battle. But the notion that they were more than the sum of their parts? Preposterous.

“It is as you say. They are beasts, nothing more.” Ferdinand squawked like a dying bird. “They are useful animals, but they are animals nonetheless. They are servants of man, the same as sheep, or cattle.”

A heavy silence fell between Hubert and Ferdinand. Only the distant sound of hoofbeats broke the tension. A minute passed, during which both boys watched Edelgard and Adelaide ride in circles. It was the longest that Ferdinand had kept his mouth shut all afternoon.

Frustration finally prickled at the back of Hubert’s neck. He snapped to face Ferdinand, half expecting to find him passed out on the ground. Instead, Hubert met with a pair of burning amber eyes, piercing Hubert’s skin. The breath caught in Hubert’s throat.

_ “You _ are a servant of man,” Ferdinand said pointedly.

Those orange eyes narrowed like Hubert was a puzzle worth solving. Well. Hubert wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction. Hubert tore his eyes away, resolutely looking forward, even as he felt shame crawling up his neck. Another silent minute passed.

“Well,” Ferdinand finally said. “Clearly you’ve never met the right horse.”

“Are you really not going to let this drop?”

“No.”

Then Ferdinand took his hand.

Hubert looked down at where Ferdinand held his bony wrist. “What. Are you doing.”

“Come!” Ferdinand tugged on Hubert’s wrist like he was a dog on a leash. “I have something to show you!”

“I cannot leave Lady Edelgard.”

“We will be back before they even notice us missing!” Ferdinand promised.

Of all the qualities Hubert possessed, being gullible was not one of them. Curiosity, however…

“Fine.”

Hubert allowed himself to be led away from the arena, making only the barest show of reluctance. Ferdinand led Hubert across the stableyard, every step creating a clearer image of where they were headed. They passed the horse stalls, walking in the direction of the pastures. They stopped at the fence to a large paddock.

“The pegasus enclosure,” Hubert noted, eyeing the winged horses.

“Yes! Do not think I have not noticed how you envy them!”

Hubert turned his face, refusing to let the other boy see. Ferdinand observed more than he let on, it seemed.

“Your point?”

“You say horses are only useful as servants, yet I know for a fact you have a soft spot for pegasus.”

Hubert could hear the proud smile in Ferdinand’s voice. It was absolutely infuriating.

“Pegasus aren’t horses,” he said petulantly.

“And yet…” Rustling cloth. Huber turned in time to see Ferdinand fetch something out of his pockets. “They like the same treats.”

Ferdinand cupped a handful of sweetened oats in his hand, holding it out for Hubert to take.

“Did you have that in your  _ pocket?” _ Hubert cupped his hands together, taking the oats despite his misgivings.

“It came in handy, did it not?”

Hubert couldn’t be bothered to argue, staring at the oats in his hand. “Now what do I do?”

“Now we catch a pegasus!” Ferdinand quickly ducked under the fence.

Hubert hurried to follow after, careful not to drop the oats in his hands. There was no guarantee Ferdinand had more loose oats in his pockets. Ferdinand stepped lightly across the pasture, eyes locked on the herd of pegasus gathered near the water trough. As they approached within a dozen feet from the pegasus, Ferdinand waved Huber over.

“Now…” Ferdinand spoke with a lowered voice, so Hubert had to lean in to hear him. “We want to select a target, the herd’s weakest link.”

“Are you sure we’re trying to  _ catch _ a pegasus and not  _ kill _ one?”

Ferdinand quickly shushed him. He pointed to a small white pegasus, standing a few yards off from the rest of the herd. Its head was lowered, happily grazing.

“Horses and pegasus are prey animals, so you want to be sure not to startle them.” Ferdinand walked them so they were clearly in the pegasus’ line of sight. “Make sure they see you and start to walk forward… slowly…”

The two started taking slow, measured steps toward the pegasus Ferdinand had spotted. Anyone who happened to look in the pegasus enclosure then would surely find the scene comical; two noble boys approaching a herd of pegasus as if it were a herd of demonic beasts. Five feet from the pegasus, the animal raised its head, locking eyes with Hubert. Ferdinand held an arm out to stop him.

“From here, let her come to you,” Ferdinand said. “Hold out the oats, let her see you have a treat.”

Hubert stretched his arms out as far as they would go. The pegasus glanced at his hands, nostrils flaring. Her eyes flickered between Hubert and the oats, clearly tempted, but torn.

“Try to think happy thoughts. Horses can feel your energy,” Ferdinand said with utmost seriousness.

“I’ve never thought a happy thought in my life.”

“Ha, a joke!” Ferdinand whispered. “There is hope for you after all!”

The pegasus took a step forward. Hubert gasped, then immediately regretted it when the pegasus stopped. Ferdinand clamped his hands over his mouth, enraptured as the pegasus took another step towards Hubert. Her long neck stretched out, reaching for the treat in Hubert’s hand. Hubert tried to keep perfectly still, but his hands still quivered.

Finally, a velvety soft nose touched the skin of Hubert’s palm. Hubert watched, eyes blown wide, as the mare sniffed the oats in his hand. Her breath warmed his palm, spider’s leg whiskers tickling his skin. His heart swelled, hands still shaking as he gently stroked the fur on the mare’s nose. It was just as soft as he’d imagined.

Giddy laughter bubbled out of him.

“I am so happy for you!” Ferdinand shouted, clapping his hands together.

The pegasus snorted, jumping backward. Hubert stumbled back, foot twisting in his boot. The pegasus reared back on her hind legs, wings beating, stirring up a dust cloud. Hubert grabbed onto Ferdinand for balance. Ferdinand, awestruck at the pegasus’ display of power, failed to brace himself. When Hubert pulled, he crumbled like a tower of sand.

Both boys landed in the dirt. Ferdinand grabbed Hubert, instinctively rolling them to the side in case the pegasus stomped. Thankfully, the pegasus chose flight, running back to the safety of her herd.

The danger passed, Hubert pushed Ferdinand off him, collapsing on his back into the dirt. “You complete  _ fool,” _ he gasped out.

Ferdinand, similarly out of breath, rolled onto his back at Hubert’s side. “I will admit.” Ferdinand grasped at his rib, feeling a bruise blossoming. “I let my excitement get the better of me.”

They locked eyes and burst into laughter.

* * *

> _ Day 28 of Garland Moon, Imperial Year 1170 _
> 
> _ Mother, _
> 
> _ The first rain arrived this morning, and with it, a deluge of flowers. Lord Elric has received so many rose garlands, I have lost count. He walks between classes with wreaths of white roses around his neck, bearing the love of his classmates with pride. I have received two myself, but I am not so bold. The flowers sit on my windowsill, where they will rest until the day they wither. _
> 
> _ I have kept note of these gifts, ranked each suitor by which match provides the most political gain, both for Lord Elric and myself. I have given my lord hints, nudged him to return the affections of those partners I deem suitable. _
> 
> _ But something festers within me that I struggle to name. Our whole lives, I have been the one at Lord Elric’s side. I have been his greatest confidant, and ally all these years. Something is changing, now. I am forced to watch from the sidelines as Lord Elric gives himself so easily to our peers, as they see him for the man that I have always known him to be. _
> 
> _ I do not wish to share him. _
> 
> _ Regards, _
> 
> _ Caleb von Vestra _

* * *

> _ Day 14 of Blue Sea Moon, Imperial Year 1170 _
> 
> _ Father, _
> 
> _ I address this letter specifically to you because today I write in need of your advice. You never told us much of your childhood alongside Emperor Ionius IX. I am left wondering if he was anything like Lord Elric, and if so, you have my deepest condolences. _
> 
> _ Despite my best efforts, Lord Elric is determined to cause a diplomatic incident. _
> 
> _ During the celebration on Saint Cethleann Day, my lord made an off-color joke regarding the Saint’s statue in the chapel. It ill bears repeating here. Unfortunately, Lady Charon overheard and challenged my lord to a duel in defense of Saint Cethleann’s honor. And of course, Lord Elric  _ agreed _ to this ridiculous farce. _
> 
> _ The Blue Lions and Black Eagles gathered after hours on the training grounds to watch two idiots beat the shit out of each other. I’m fairly certain Lord Elric and Lady Charon both forgot the purpose of the duel midway through. They were just happy to punch each other. Lord Elric had Lady Charon’s arm pinned behind her back when his crest activated. _
> 
> _ Father, he  _ broke _ Lady Charon’s arm. _
> 
> _ Once again, I was left to clean up my lord’s messes. Thankfully, it was nothing a little faith couldn’t heal. I was terrified Lady Charon was going to report Lord Elric to one of the priests. He would be expelled, then Faerghus would send knights to our borders, and F _ _ ódlan would descend into chaos. _
> 
> _ If you can believe it, she just laughed and said that was the best fight she’d had since coming to the monastery. Faerghus is a strange land. _
> 
> _ Regards, _
> 
> _ Caleb von Vestra _

* * *

> _ Day 4 of Verdant Rain Moon, Imperial Year 1170 _
> 
> _ Hubert, _
> 
> _ How are things in the Empire? Is Enbarr as beautiful as I remember it to be? Are you serving your lady well? _
> 
> _ The monastery sits atop the mountain from which the Airmid river flows. If I stand just outside the gates of the monastery, I can follow its path and look out into Gronder Field. I will sit and watch the sunrise over our beautiful empire, over the land my lord will one day rule. _
> 
> _ If I squint into the dawn, I can almost see the edges of Hrym. _
> 
> _ I have seen so much in my short time at the monastery, sometimes I fear I have forgotten what it means to be Adrestian. It is cold here, not warm like the embrace of the southern sea. And the people are strange, their motives unknowable. I am always looking for monsters around every corner, searching for the shadows cast by Lord Elric’s light. _
> 
> _ Every day, my lord becomes a better man. I strive to be worthy, but still come up short. If Lord Elric shines like the morning sun, then perhaps  _ I _ am the shadow he casts. _
> 
> _ When I finally return to Enbarr, will it recognize me? _
> 
> _ Will I recognize it in turn? _
> 
> _ Regards, _
> 
> _ Caleb von Vestra _

* * *

Edelgard’s quill scratched against parchment, dark lines flowing into what she hoped was the solution. She finished with a flourish, not a droplet of ink out of place. She set the quill back in the inkwell, collapsing against the back of her chair with a heavy sigh.

She folded her arms across her chest and looked pointedly to Hubert. “I’m done.”

Hubert raised an eyebrow, carefully drawing her work across the table to inspect. “We will see about that,” he hummed.

Hubert’s eyes lowered to the paper, scanning quickly over Edelgard’s work. Edelgard huffed, turning her face away from Hubert. Sunlight streamed through the window of the second-floor library. Edelgard could do nothing but sigh, gazing out at the cornflower sky and the beautiful day passing her by.

Instead of playing swords with Ferdinand, or taking tea with Elric, her tactics tutor had ordered her to study. In the past week, the young princess had fallen behind in her lessons. She returned half-hearted work to her tutors and drifted off during their lectures. So, they decided an afternoon of independent study would do her good.

While Ferdinand, and Adelaide took tea in the gardens, heralded by blood-red cardinals, Edelgard sat at a dusty table in the library. The servants had been ordered to inform Anselma if Edelgard shirked her lessons. She could only sit, wasting the gift of a beautiful summer afternoon.

“Can you not just take my word that I’ve finished?” Edelgard huffed.

“It is in your best interests to improve your understanding of military tactics.” Hubert’s eyes continued to scan Edelgard’s work. “So no, as much as I hate to see you trapped here, I cannot simply take your word.”

Edelgard groaned, slumping over the table, head pillowed on her arms. It was unbecoming of the princess to slouch. However, in the empty library, Hubert would allow her this one comfort. While Edelgard’s penmanship was crisp and faultless, the same could not be said of her proposed solution. A number of errors jumped out from the page under Hubert’s watchful eye.

A frown pulled at the corners of Hubert’s mouth. Normally, Edelgard worked diligently at her studies, carefully scouring her notes and textbooks before proposing a solution. Little sparked her ire quite like when someone told her she was wrong. So she strove to be correct.

It was unlike her to make such simple mistakes.

Hubert passed the paper back to Edelgard. “This is wrong.”

Edelgard groaned, lifting her head to shoot Hubert a withering glare. “Of course it is,” she snapped.

She tore the paper from Hubert’s hand. He let it go easily, as Edelgard snatched her quill from its well. Angrily, she scribbled out her previous solution, dark blots of ink splashing onto the paper. The hard  _ scritch _ of Edelgard’s pen filled the quiet library, grower louder with every stroke of her pen.

“Lady Edelgard—“

“What now?” she snapped, jamming the point of her quill through the paper.

Hubert paused, hand outstretched with his palm splayed, as one would approach a wild animal. “I was going to suggest you pause before you tear through the paper.”

Edelgard’s eyes burned into Hubert’s, but he refused to yield to her anger. Edelgard took Hubert’s advice and paused. She closed her eyes and let the day’s frustrations leave her lungs with a long breath. After a moment, she reopened her eyes and set the ruined sheet of vellum aside.

“It hardly matters,” she sighed. “It was wrong anyway.”

She reached for another piece of paper, prepared to try her hand at the problem again. Hubert’s eyes followed her ink-stained fingers, shaking as they smoothed a blank sheet of parchment over the table. He had never been the best with words. But he was to ensure Edelgard performed her best.

“Something is clearly troubling you,” Hubert said plainly.

Edelgard’s fingers paused, wrapped around the quill inside its well.

“You do not have to tell me what troubles you.” Hubert was thankful that Edelgard wouldn’t meet his eye. If she had, the words would have caught in his throat. “But you know that if there is anything I can do for you, I will do it without question.”

Silence filled the library, as Edelgard held perfectly still. Her eyes never moved from her own fingers, darkened with ink. If not for the steady rise and fall of her chest, Hubert might have thought them trapped in amber.

Edelgard sighed, her hand slipping from her pen like the tide receding into the sea. “I doubt there’s anything you can do for me.”

“You should tell me and I will be the judge of that.”

Edelgard glanced at Hubert with a raised brow. “I thought I didn’t have to tell you?” Though her voice lay flat, the glint in her eye betrayed her laughter.

“It was merely a suggestion,” Hubert shot back raising his eyebrow in turn.

Despite herself, the corner of Edelgard’s lip quirked into a smile. She abandoned her paper and quill, angling herself to face Hubert fully. Her hands folded in her lap as she took a steadying breath, her gaze falling from Hubert’s once again.

“I overheard Mother discussing Father’s negotiations within the Alliance.” Edelgard paused, hands fisting in her dress. “One of the noble families proposed an engagement. With me.”

Hubert shot out of his seat. “Who would dare—?”

“Calm  _ down,  _ Hubie.” Edelgard pulled him back into his seat without fanfare. “Father dismissed the idea.”

“As he should!” Hubert huffed. “Of all the brash, ill-thought—”

Representatives from Gloucester and Riegan were currently in trade negotiations with the emperor. Adrestian elites had taken a shine to Leicesterian imports. Nobles with more money than sense liked to serve Edmund wine at dinner, wearing clothes spun from Derdriu silk. For all that the Alliance lacked military strength, they were rich in trade goods. For that, the Empire envied them.

A potential alliance between the nations could prove beneficial to both. Leicester would be able to make use of the Empire’s military might in defending their borders and Adrestia would receive the Alliance’s numerous trade goods.

But in Hubert’s opinion, none of the Alliance families were worthy of Edelgard. As third in line to the Adrestian throne, she had far more power than all the Alliance houses combined. For an Alliance family to suggest such a thing was incalculably bold.

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you,” Edelgard grumbled, turning away from Hubert, arms folded over her chest.

Hubert furrowed his brow. Clearly his outburst upset Edelgard. But he scrounged the depths of his heart, searching for any other words to offer and found nothing.

“Is it wrong to be offended on your behalf?” Hubert asked. “You are worth far more than anything the Alliance has to offer. I’m glad the Emperor saw the sense in that.”

Edelgard rolled her eyes. “You sound just like my father.”

“Your father is a great man.”

“You’re missing the point!”

“Then I ask that you explain it to me.”

“I am not some cattle to be traded away!” Edelgard shouted, eyes flaring as she whirled on Hubert with righteous fury.

Hubert startled, her shout piercing the gentle atmosphere of the library. Edelgard, too, seemed to realize her misstep. The fire in her eyes faded with a weary sigh. She sagged back in her seat like that one outburst had drained all the fight from her.

She closed her eyes. “I am… conflicted.”

The corners of her eyes pinched, mouth pulled sharply taught. Hubert could read Edelgard well and he knew the signs of a confession ready to break free. He turned towards her, eyes never leaving her face, and waited.

“I feel as if, for the first time I am seeing the course my life will take.” She opened her eyes but didn’t see through the haze of memory. “Ferdinand and I used to share stories of knights and princesses, epic tales of love and nobility. Adelaide and I would talk about all the places we’d like to visit when we were older.”

Despite herself, Edelgard couldn’t help but smile. “I thought… being a princess meant I could do whatever I wanted.” She still smiled, even as her eyes turned to glass. “I’m beginning to realize the truth is anything but.”

Hubert exhaled a long breath through his nose. “Lady Edelgard…”

“One day my brother will be Emperor…” Edelgard’s gaze fell to her hands, still fisted in her crimson skirt. “And I’ll be married off for his political gain.”

Hubert struggled to find anything he could offer. The future Edelgard spoke of was simply the truth. As an imperial princess, it was Edelgard’s duty to serve the Empire in all aspects of her being, just as it was Hubert’s duty to serve her. As an asset to the Empire, Edelgard was  _ invaluable,  _ her hand in marriage an incredibly useful tool in the Emperor’s arsenal.

It had happened to Ionius' siblings; it would happen to Edelgard as well.

“If it was just marriage then I think, perhaps, that wouldn’t be so terrible,” Edelgard mused. “There are certainly  _ worse _ things than an arranged marriage.”

Hubert was inclined to agree. Like Edelgard, he knew from birth that he would one day be expected to take a spouse, whether it was at his father’s insistence or Edelgard’s. He had little care for such things, as long as his partner swore fealty to Edelgard.

“But there are so many things I can never do because of my position.” Edelgard stared out the window with longing, at the wide-open sky.

“Tell me what you want.”

“To see the world.” A red cardinal landed on the windowsill to rest its wings. “Sometimes I simply stare out over the southern sea and long to just…  _ go.” _ Edelgard watched with interest, at the little bird preening its feathers. “To find a place where no one knows my name and I can finally shed this mask I’ve been forced to wear.”

The cardinal met Edelgard’s eye, tilting its head with a curious hop. She smiled and leaned forward in her chair, tilting her head in turn. Then it spread its wings and soared away. Edelgard followed it with her eyes until it was only a speck on the horizon.

“There’s no telling what I’ll be asked to do for the good of the Empire. I could be kept in this palace for the rest of my life and unable to leave. Or I could be sent somewhere far away, separated from everyone I love.” Edelgard let out a weary sigh. “But no matter what happens to me, it won’t be by my choice.”

Silence swallowed all of Hubert’s thoughts. What could he possibly tell Edelgard when the future she spoke of was written in stone? As a noble and a princess, Edelgard’s life had never been her own. Hubert’s was much the same in that regard. But he served Edelgard gladly. She was the ever-stalwart rock he built himself upon. Without Edelgard, there was no Hubert.

How could he give Edelgard that same foundation? That same certainty? She had offered it to him and asked for nothing in return. How could Hubert even begin to pay that debt? The only foundation he could provide her, as sure as the sunrise every morning, was his devotion.

“You need only say the word and I will do my best to make those dreams a reality.”

Edelgard looked to him with mirth in her eyes. “Hubert.” Her tone was chastising, with a sparkle of fond laughter. “There is a limit even to what you can do.”

“Then we will break those limits.” His eyes held no laughter, only a steely resolve.

Edelgard’s eyes widened, startled by the sharp focus of Hubert’s loyalty. Her eyes darted furtively around the library, checking the shadows for any prying eyes. The library held no secrets, only silence and old, yellowed tomes.

Edelgard leaned in towards Hubert, voice hushed. “You cannot just say such things! You know better than anyone that the walls have ears!”

Hubert gave her a petulant look. “Yes, I know, because I  _ checked. _ There’s no one here save for your batty old tutor outside the door and  _ he’s _ asleep.”

“Even still—” Edelgard paused, her brain catching up with Hubert’s words. “What do you mean my tutor’s asleep?”

“A complex puzzle, indeed.”

Edelgard’s cheeks flushed. “If he’s asleep then why are we still in here?”

“To revise your lessons, of course.”

Edelgard’s brow twitched. Hubert recognized the tell as one that appeared whenever Ferdinand thought to talk down to her. 

“You are  _ infuriating.” _ Edelgard took a deep breath and slowly unclenched her fists. “But your  _ betrayal  _ is beside the point.”

One by one, she pried her fingers loose from their death grip on her dress. Edelgard offered Hubert a fond smile, yet it still didn’t reach her eyes. Her next words came in hushed whispers, soft enough to be covered by the rustle of vellum.

Edelgard splayed her hands in her lap, struggling not to curl her fingers into her skirt. “My freedom is not more important than the whole of the Empire.” She squeezed her eyes shut.  _ “I  _ am not more important.”

“You are to me.” Hubert’s spoke without pause or shame.

His words hung in the air, swelling to fill the space of the hollow library. Edelgard met Hubert’s unfailing, earnest gaze. The weight of his devotion threatened to smother her. How could one girl possibly be deserving? A piece of her heart, cold and strangled under the weight of duty, beat once more.

“I…  _ Hubie…” _ She struggled to find the words.

“You are worth more than every soul within  F ódlan or without.”

“Hubert.” Edelgard’s voice pierced his words. “You  _ must _ know that isn’t true. I am not worth more than a commoner simply because of my birth.”

“No, not because of your birth,” Hubert agreed. “I am sworn to you because I believe in you.”

Edelgard shook her head vehemently. “And you are only sworn to me because of my birth!”

“Then because we grew up together,” Hubert said sharply, his eyes piercing Edelgard’s and for once commanding her to listen. “Because you are featured in all of my happiest memories. Because…” He took a deep breath, his face flushing. “We are friends, are we not?”

Edelgard met his gaze with shining eyes. “Yes.”

Hubert could still feel the color on his cheeks, and despite that resolved to continue on. “If my duty ended tomorrow, I would still follow you. As long as there is life left in me, I will follow you.”

“Your support means… the  _ world _ to me.” Edelgard closed her eyes, struggling against the flood of emotion. “Even still, my duty… is not one I can simply step away from.”

There was truth in that. To abandon her title would undoubtedly cause discord without the Empire. Nobles would try to vie for the scraps of power Edelgard left behind. Removing herself would steal an incredibly useful tool from the Emperor’s hand. They would be a fool to simply let her go.

Conflict would arise, of that, there was no doubt.

Edelgard opened her eyes, full of resignation. “I have no wish to see my brother’s Empire sundered.”

Hubert racked his mind for some solution, some way that Edelgard could have everything she wanted. But he came up empty-handed. Even as a princess, Edelgard only had so many cards when playing against the Emperor.

“You would give up your freedom to make your brother happy?

Edelgard blinked at him. “Of course. Elric is dear to me.”

Hubert had no words to say. If Edelgard had decided, if she truly valued Elric’s peace over her own, then the choice was out of his hands.

“But I think if you’re by my side,” Edelgard smiled at Hubert, full and warm despite the threat of tears. “It might not be so bad.”

“Always,” Hubert promised.

> * * *
> 
> _ Day 20 of Horsebow Moon, Imperial Year 1170 _
> 
> _ Marquis Vestra, _
> 
> _ Over these past seventeen years of life, I have done my best to be a good son. I hope you will agree with me when I say I think I succeeded. However, the day you gave me to Lord Elric’s servitude, my duty as your son ended. _
> 
> _ So tell me, not as my father but as one vassal to another; what is happening in the Empire? _
> 
> _ Did you think I would not notice? That I do not have spies of my own among your men? I would hope you rate yourself a better teacher than that. I am my father’s son, after all. _
> 
> _ I understand that your concern is the Emperor, and that concern extends to the emperor’s children. But my concern is Lord Elric above all else, and I cannot protect him if my father is keeping me in the dark. _
> 
> _ If you truly serve your emperor, then you will tell me what you know. _
> 
> _ Do not place my safety above your duty. _
> 
> _ Regards, _
> 
> _ Caleb von Vestra _

* * *

> _ Day 31 of Wyvern Moon, Imperial Year 1170 _
> 
> _ My dear family, _
> 
> _ We won! I wish you had been there at Gronder Field to see how Lord Elric led the Black Eagles to victory. He was a beacon of light on the battlefield, the avatar of the holy blood that flows in his veins. I have never seen him shine as brightly as he did that day, under the crimson wings of Adrestia. _
> 
> _ For a moment I saw the future, Lord Elric bearing the emperor’s crown, leading his people into the dawn. He has an emperor’s heart and soul. Everyone on the battlefield saw its shine. _
> 
> _ He has grown so much in these short few months. It feels like yesterday that we were children, playing with wooden swords in the garden. In the blink of an eye, he’s become a man, ready to shoulder the weight of a nation. _
> 
> _ I long for that day when the sun rises on Elric’s Adrestia. I will be at his side, always. _
> 
> _ The world he creates will be a beautiful one. _
> 
> _ Love, _
> 
> _ Caleb von Vestra _

* * *

> _ Red Wolf Moon Day 6, 1170 _
> 
> _ To Marquis Vestra, _
> 
> _ It is with a heavy heart that we regret to inform you that your son, Caleb von Vestra, was killed. He and Lord Elric von Hresvelg departed the monastery to attend to personal affairs in Hrym. When they did not return for classes, the Knights of Seiros were dispatched to search for them. They found evidence of a demonic beast attack just outside Gronder Field. _
> 
> _ Of the two students, and the ten knights accompanying them, Lord Elric was the only survivor. Lord Elric has been unable to speak since the incident and has been sent home to recover. _
> 
> _ We have sent a convoy with Caleb’s body, alongside his personal effects from the monastery, to your home in Enbarr. Expect their arrival within the next week. _
> 
> _ Our thoughts and prayers are with you in this time of hardship. _
> 
> _ May the Goddess guide you. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: discussion of arranged marriages between children, off screen child death
> 
> :))))))
> 
> [tumblr](https://aceyuurikatsuki.tumblr.com/)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/aceklaviergavin)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A funeral under the eyes of Seiros.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to the reason this fic has an M rating
> 
> originally this chapter was longer, but after some feedback I decided to split it in two because. this one's a doozy.
> 
> remember the violence tag and be sure to check the end notes for detailed warnings.

It rained the day Caleb came home. Arvid stood at the palace gates all morning, watching the main square. His eldest’s arrival would be unmistakable, marked by the Church’s banner. So Arvid waited for that telltale emblem, tracking the sun’s movement across the sky.

Arvid had ordered Hubert and Heidrun to remain at Nerium Manor until he called them away. As soon as Arvid disappeared into the palace, Hubert left the manor in search of Edelgard. However, in light of Prince Elric’s “condition,” both princesses were under lock and key by order of the Imperial Guard.

The Imperial Guard refused to let Hubert pass no matter what tricks he used. “I am Lady Edelgard’s vassal!” Hubert exclaimed indignantly.

The knight before Edelgard’s chambers was tall and commanding, one hand resting on the sword at her hip. Hubert stood toe to toe with her, and his head barely came up to her breastbone. She stared down her nose at Hubert, eyes cold and calculating. They reminded Hubert of his father.

“I am under strict orders from His Majesty Emperor Ionius IX to let  _ no one _ see Princess Edelgard.” The knight’s voice filled the hallway, clipped and short. “That includes  _ you.” _

Hubert’s skin prickled. “It is my sworn duty to protect Lady Edelgard!”

_ “You _ are a glorified lapdog, never mind the fact that you are a  _ child. _ How are  _ you _ going to protect Her Highness?” The knight spat. “Now leave before I report you to Marquis Vestra.”

Short of poisoning the guard, there was little else Hubert could do.

Hot shame crawled up the back of Hubert’s neck. He turned on his heel, refusing to give this knight the satisfaction of seeing how her words affected him. Still, his retreat echoed heavily down the hallway. The truth of her words stabbed into Hubert’s gut like a dagger and  _ twisted. _

Now, when Lady Edelgard needed him most, when danger snuck into the palace and snapped at her heels, Hubert was all but useless. He was  _ worse _ than useless, he was a  _ liability,  _ forcibly separated from Lady Edelgard for her safety.

For all his training, Hubert was still a boy. He had no practical knowledge of weapons or poisons. He only had the knife strapped to his forearm, but had never used it in real combat. All he could do was follow orders—pointless if there were no orders to follow. Forced to the sidelines, he could only watch as adults ripped control from his grasp.

His legs carried him to a balcony, overlooking the palace gates. Rain fell over the city, turning old stones a dark iron-gray. It soaked through Hubert’s shirt, plastering his bangs to his skin. Hubert squinted into the rain, peering out from beneath his hair to the palace gates. There, his father stood, still waiting.

_ “Psst.” _

Hubert glanced up to a window one story up. There, his eyes met Heidrun’s as she leaned out over the windowsill. Heidrun raised her eyebrows, eyes sharp and incredulous. 

Her face clearly said:  _ “What the hell are you doing here?” _

Hubert shrugged, returning the bite in her gaze.  _ “What are  _ you  _ doing here?” _

Heidrun huffed, rolling her eyes. She pulled back from the ledge, disappearing from Hubert’s sight. He assumed that would be the end of their interaction. Suddenly, Heidrun hopped onto the ledge, legs dangling over the balcony below. She dropped down, landing in a crouch at Hubert’s side.

“You couldn’t take the stairs?” Hubert hissed.

Heidrun stood up, nonchalantly brushing herself off. Clearly, jumping from great heights was normal for her.

“Too slow,” Heidrun said simply. “I’d miss the excitement.”

She pointed over Hubert’s shoulder, down Enbarr’s main thoroughfare. Hubert turned, following the line of Heidrun’s finger, peering into the distance. No matter how hard he tried, Hubert only saw a crowd of commoners lining the street, stretching into the fog of rain clouds.

“I don’t see anything,” Hubert huffed.

“Then look  _ harder.”  _ Heidrun sidestepped him.

Heidrun walked to the edge of the balcony, leaning her forearms on the rain-spattered barricade. Hubert sighed, and followed her eyes once more, straining to see into the haze. There, far down the path, just at the edge of the falling rain, Hubert saw the crowd part. If he used his imagination, he could almost form a caravan from the shapes in the fog.

“You think that’s them?” Hubert asked.

“I’m almost certain.”

Hubert took up vigil alongside his sister, leaning against row balustrade. They watched in silence as the split in the crowd neared the palace. Eventually, a slow-moving carriage emerged from the haze. As they neared, Hubert’s eyes scanned the carriage, looking for any indication of what it hid.

Two horses flanked the wagon, both carrying armored knights. As the convoy approached, more and more details revealed themselves. The formless white cloth in the back of the wagon, the crest of Seiros inscribed in the wood. With every step closer, Hubert’s stone heart sank.

As the citizenry parted, making way for the convoy to pass, they began to line the street. Commoners hid in the shade of buildings, noblemen clutching their parasols to ward off the rain, all paused for a moment. Mothers hugged their children close, watching the cart pass in silence.

Word spread of the Church’s arrival. Throngs of people lined up outside the palace district, gravely following the procession. The people knew of the tragedy that transpired at Garreg Mach, knew that their prince returned a broken man. Now they bore witness to the heir of Vestra’s final journey.

Arvid straightened as the cart neared. He walked the final steps to meet them. He exchanged brief words with the driver, then examined the bed of the cart. At this distance, Hubert couldn’t hear their words.

He elbowed Heidrun. “What are they saying?”

Heidrun shoved him back, eyes locked on the guard’s moving lips. “The driver just mentioned the cooling charm preserving the… the body.” A stone caught in Hubert’s throat.

Arvid inspected the cart thoroughly, running his hands along the wood. From experience, Hubert knew he was checking for weapons, or hidden compartments, anything that could be used in an attack on the palace. The cart passed under his watchful eye, leaving only the tightly bundled sheet.

Arvid’s gloved hands hovered over the sheet, almost as if he were afraid to touch it. Hubert had never seen his father show such trepidation before. Arvid grasped the edge of the cloth, and with a flick of his wrist, peeled it back to look inside.

Time stopped, as Arvid gazed into the tightly wound cocoon. For a moment, Arvid’s breath did not come, nor did his heart beat. All that existed was the cloth in his hand and all it contained.

Time moved on. Arvid tucked the sheet back with an almost gentle caress. He waved over a pair of attendants, who rushed to transfer the tight bundle onto a stretcher. The process only took a few moments before the attendants carried off what the knights had come all this way to deliver.

Heidrun grabbed Hubert’s wrist and tugged. “What?”

Heidrun hurried back into the palace, dragging Hubert behind her. “They’re taking him to the chapel.”

She shouldered through the doors brusquely, cutting through the foyer. Hubert tried to slow her, dig his heels in and force her to go at his pace. But Heidrun simply pulled harder, until Hubert felt the bones in his wrist strain. Heidrun had always been stronger.

“Heidrun!” he snapped. “We’re tracking water everywhere!”

She didn’t even turn to glare at him, continuing to track rainwater on the polished floor. “There’s no time! Don’t you want to see what they did to him?”

“Who?”

“Caleb!”

Even though the news had only arrived a week ago, to Hubert it felt like ages since anyone had said Caleb’s name aloud. To invoke it now twisted the dagger in Hubert’s gut. But it cowed him into silence.

Heidrun cut a winding path through the palace, clutching tight to Hubert’s wrist. She avoided hallways, cutting through connected guest chambers and council rooms instead. Hubert quickly realized she was avoiding the guards. He stayed close to her, mimicking her light footsteps.

Heidrun led them around to the side entrance. She held up her hand, signaling Hubert to halt. Hubert stopped, crouched beside the door as Heidrun peeked through the door. She stepped back, leaning against the other side of the doorway.

“Well?” Hubert hissed impatiently.

“The servants just arrived. The priest is helping move him to the altar. We need to wait until they leave.” Her dark eyes flickered briefly to Hubert. “Or make an opening.”

Hubert realized with sudden clarity exactly why Heidrun had dragged him along. “I am  _ not _ going to be your distraction,” he hissed.

“You will if I threaten to tell Father you disobeyed him.”

“You did the same thing!”

_ “Quiet!”  _ Heidrun hissed.

Hubert shut his mouth, burning holes into Heidrun’s cheek with his eyes. She ignored him, peeking once more around the corner. Distantly, Hubert heard voices, carried across the cavernous, empty space of the chapel. They were too muffled to make out. Instead, Hubert was forced to rely on Heidrun’s eye.

A minute passed before Heidrun motioned for Hubert to follow. “The priest just left to make preparations. We have a few minutes until he gets back.”

Heidrun stalked into the chapel, Hubert on her heels as she ducked behind the pews. Light filtered through the stained glass portrait of Saint Seiros, unchanged in all the years Hubert lived. Fractured light fell over a white bundle of cloth resting on a marble altar.

“Hurry up! We don’t have time,” Heidrun whispered, pulling Hubert up the steps to the altar.

Hubert couldn’t respond even if he wanted to. His heart lodged in his throat. His knees wobbled beneath his weight, beyond his control. He tried to walk on his toes, the step lightly so as not to make noise. His footsteps still echoed in his ears.

He looked to Heidrun, searching for any sign that she felt the same. But her face was a stone mask, as resolute as ever. She walked to the other side of the altar, dropping Hubert’s hand. For the first time, Hubert realized how badly his hands shook, how badly his  _ whole body  _ shook. Had it always been that way? Had he been shaking since he first saw the Knights of Seiros approach his father? Had Heidrun’s hand on his been steadying him?

He wanted her at his side so badly. But his voice failed him. Even if it hadn’t, he didn’t know how to ask for comfort. All Hubert could do was clench his shaking hands. Saint Seiros stood before him, sword in hand, bearing witness to his weakness.

Heidrun leaned over the altar, over the tightly wrapped bundle of cloth. She grasped the edge in her hands, just as their father had only minutes ago. Her arm rippling in the fractured light, she tore back the veil.

Until that moment, Hubert could pretend it was all a dream. That he could retire for the day, and find Caleb in the halls of Nerium Manor. His brother was clever. Surely this was a brilliant ruse, and one day, Caleb would walk through the palace gates as if he never left.

But the sunken, flayed face of his brother was no ruse. Skin peeled back to reveal the meat and tendons beneath Caleb’s cheek, outlined by the flash of stark white bone. That permanent half-smile marred Caleb’s face, filled with too many teeth.

Deep gouges in the junction of Caleb’s neck disappeared into his wrappings. They hinted at further injuries, hiding beneath the veil of cloth. If they unwrapped him, how much of Caleb would still remain? Shards of bone poked through Caleb’s skin, hinting at the broken body beneath.

How much had Caleb endured before succumbing to his injuries? Had he died immediately, in one fell swoop? Or had he withstood the battle, left to bleed out in the grass, with the knowledge that no one was coming? Had he watched for days while carrion picked at his comrades? Had he still been alive when they came for him?

Worst of all was Caleb’s empty stare. Where once had been Hubert’s own olive eyes now lay empty, bloody voids. Hollowed out holes flickered beneath Seiros’s light, endlessly staring. Caleb could never blink, never  _ rest. _ Caleb laid bare before the eyes of the Goddess he loved so much. No matter where Hubert stood, the negative space of Caleb’s eyes followed.

Seiros’s empty, stained glass eyes pierced Hubert’s skin. Green like Hubert’s eyes, like Caleb’s eyes had once been. He shook beneath their twin stares, hands desperately clenching and unclenching. The skin at the corner of his mouth curled, beginning to peel back over sharp cheekbones. Hubert could feel his eyes loose in his skull, ready to fall out at any moment.

Caleb still stared, face torn in that mockery of a smile.  _ Why didn’t you save me? _ it seemed to say.  _ Why did you desecrate me like this? _ Beneath Seiros and Caleb’s dual judgment, Hubert fell short in so many ways.

He ran.

Hubert bolted for the nearest door, footsteps echoing like cannons. He didn’t care who saw him, he didn’t care about the consequences he might face. He needed  _ out.  _ He burst through the door into the eastern courtyard.

He barely made it to the grass before spitting bile. He sank to his knees, hands scrabbling for purchase in the mud. He gasped for breath, black dancing before his eyes. Unconsciousness would almost be welcome. But when Hubert closed his eyes, Caleb’s hollow stare burned into him. 

He vomited again, rain beating against his back. His only thought was that he always ran to Caleb for help. All at once, Hubert confronted the reality of his brother’s death. He would never again feel the warmth of Caleb’s faith or see their father reflected in Caleb’s eyes. Caleb would never see Elric become Emperor, nor see the empire he’d dreamed of.

Caleb was gone. All that was left was a hollowed-out corpse.

A firm hand laid against the small of his back. “Breathe,” Heidrun said, in as gentle a voice as she could manage.

Hubert gasped again, struggling against his own body.

“Count to one hundred.”

Hubert did. He focused on Heidrun’s hand on his back and the slow progression of numbers in his head. Everything else became white noise. Slowly, the black at the edge of his vision receded. His breathing began to level, and his mind returned to him. Air burned his lungs, stinging against the acid in his mouth. His breath hitched, a hiccup escaping.

Salt stung his cheeks, and he realized he’d been crying. Hubert sat back on his heels, wiping furiously at his eyes. Heidrun looked away, allowing him this moment of peace. Hubert’s hand dropped listlessly into his lap. After everything, he was still on his knees in the courtyard, the chapel behind him.

“It… it didn’t feel real,” Hubert finally said, eyes locked on his shivering hands.

For a minute, Hubert didn’t think Heidrun was going to respond. Then, “Yeah.”

Hubert didn’t know whether she was agreeing or in shock herself. “What happened to him?” Hubert rasped.

More silence, as rain washed away the remnants of Hubert’s bile. “I don’t know.”

Hubert looked to her. Heidrun kneeled beside him, hand still on his back. But her dark eyes looked into the distance, far away. “Well, what were you looking for?”

“I don’t know.”

Hubert’s blood boiled. “You mean this was all for nothing?” he spat.

“I don’t know!” Heidrun shouted, shooting up from her crouch.

She tore her hand from Hubert’s back, fisting it at her side. Sharp nails dug into the meat of her palms. For the first time, Hubert noticed her hands shaking. She refused to meet Hubert’s eyes. Instead, Hubert’s gaze fell to his lap, to the mud on his hands and knees. He would have to explain that to his father, somehow.

“Here.”

Heidrun thrust a closed fist towards Hubert. She still refused to meet his gaze. Hubert cupped his hands below her fist. Without ceremony, she dropped something into his open palms. It was a burnished metal ring hanging on a chain with a simple band and uneven surface. When Hubert held it to the light he saw a pair of wings etched into its face.

“What’s this?” Hubert asked.

Heidrun gestured to the chapel. “It was on his neck.” She paused. “What was left of it, anyway.”

Hubert nearly dropped the ring in shock. He held on out of sheer force of will. “Why did you take it?” he asked incredulously.

“It seemed a better souvenir than a finger.” Hubert had to fight back more bile. “They’re just going to bury him with it. Don’t you want something to remember him by?”

Hubert’s hand tightened around the chain. “Then don’t you want it?”

Heidrun shrugged. “He was always closer to you, anyway.”

Heidrun’s boots squelched in the mud as she started walking. If Hubert had tried to say anything else, it would’ve been lost in the rain. He shoved the ring into his pocket and started after Heidrun.

* * *

It had stopped raining by the time they buried Caleb. During the service, they never removed him from the cloth the knights had wrapped him in. Hubert understood why. They buried Caleb in the plot behind the chapel, where all their ancestors had been laid to rest. Arvid watched in bitter silence, as they buried Caleb in the plot meant for Arvid himself.

The crowd of attendees was modest. The Vestra family had few allies, save for the royal family. Given current circumstances, the Emperor and his brood stayed far away, under the careful eye of the Imperial Guard. That left only the Vestras and a couple of allied noble families. The Hevrings stood to the side, young Linhardt standing by his mother’s side. The Aegirs were notably absent.

The only cries came from Isolde. Mournful sobs escaped her throat, even as she tried to muffle it with her hand. The priest carried on, reading Caleb’s last rites over the dirge of Isolde’s tears. Gently, Arvid laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder.

“Don’t touch me!” Isolde hissed.

Arvid pulled back his hand as if it stung. His face remained unmoved, hands returned to his side. Hubert looked to his mother, watched her tears track through her makeup. All he knew was servitude; following orders and fighting his lady’s enemies. He knew nothing of providing comfort, or how to dry his mother’s eyes.

Part of him wanted to join her in her tears. If he couldn't console her, then at least she wouldn’t be alone. But no matter how he tried, no matter what thoughts plagued his mind, Hubert couldn’t force the tears to come. He could only watch numbly as they filled Caleb’s grave.

There Hubert remained, long after the grave filled, long after the guests departed. Of the Vestras, Arvid was the first to leave, eager to return to the Emperor’s side. Heidrun left soon after, wordlessly walking toward the stables.

Isolde stayed for a long time, her sobs turning to whimpers, then to hiccups, and finally to quiet gasps. She wiped her red-rimmed eyes with a handkerchief.

A gentle hand startled Hubert from his thoughts. “I have to… return to the manor.” Isolde’s voice still swelled with unshed terms. “Will you be alright?”

Hubert nodded, not daring to speak.

Isolde attempted a soft smile, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “Take as much time as you need.” She hesitated, then knelt down, wrapping Hubert into a tight embrace. “I love you, my little Hubie.”

Her hold was almost painful. But Hubert endured, fisting his hands in black satin. The Vestras were not an affectionate family. But just this once, it felt good to be held. When his mother stood, Hubert almost asked her to come back. She was gone before the words could form on his tongue.

Hubert stared at the fresh grave, unable to tear his eyes away. Seiros’s green, green eyes still haunted him. Every time he passed the chapel, he imagined finding Caleb beneath that window, praying. It had been his favorite place in the palace, in the whole of F ó dlan.

What Goddess could let this happen to someone that loved Her so dearly?

“Could I… could I join you?”

Hubert turned to see Ferdinand von Aegir, hair cropped short. Ferdinand refused to meet Hubert’s eyes. In his hands, he held a wreath of white orchids. It was shoddily made, about to fall apart in Ferdinand’s grasp. He picked at the leaves idly, twisting flower petals around his fingers.

Hubert shrugged. “I suppose.”

Ferdinand nodded, relief flashing in his eyes briefly. He tentatively stepped forward, like a scared animal. His eyes flicked between Hubert and the new grave, wide and unsure. He moved as if any moment, the stillness would shatter.

“My… my father told me not to come.” His fists clenched around the wreath. “But… I saw you out here and I…” He thrust the wreath into Hubert’s chest. “H-here!”

Hubert’s hands curled around the flowers, touch gentle. He feared his clumsy hands might crush the blossoms. Clearly, the orchids had been beautiful once. But on the wreath they already began to wilt, drooping and browning at the edges. Bits of twine stuck out between the flowers, unraveling at the seams. Hubert’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he met Ferdinand’s eyes.

“I don’t understand,” Hubert said plainly.

Ferdinand’s eyes drifted away, as he awkwardly brushed his bangs away from his face. “I’ve never known someone that passed, but… flower wreaths are popular in Aegir.” Ferdinand scuffed his shoe against the ground. “I thought… I could do something.”

Hubert’s fingers clenched around the wreath. “You… made this?” He tried to keep his voice steadier than he felt.

“It is… it is not very good, I know.” Ferdinand’s cheeks flushed to match his hair.

Hubert stared down at the orchids, petals falling to the ground. He had never seen Ferdinand do any work with his hands, beyond pouring tea. He imagined Ferdinand in his room, struggling to bundle wilting flowers together with fraying pieces of string. Ferdinand would see the result, sloppy, falling apart, and start all over again. Hubert ducked his face, holding the flowers to his chest.

“...Thank you,” Hubert breathed.

Ferdinand kept his eyes locked on Caleb’s grave. Nothing else needed to be said. If Hubert tried to speak another word, he feared the levy would break. All the emotions he’d kept at bay would spill out, and he wouldn’t be able to take them back. He was content to remain silent.

“Hubie!”

Hubert barely had a second of warning before a small brown blur crashed into his chest.

“Edelgard!” Ferdinand exclaimed.

Hubert gasped, staring down at Edelgard with blurred vision. He yearned to return the embrace, no matter how improper it was. But Edelgard’s arms pinned his own to his chest, where he still clutched Ferdinand’s gift.

The hug only lasted a moment before Edelgard jumped back, staring up at Hubert with imploring eyes. “I wanted to come! I watched from my window all day!” She turned, pointing back toward the palace, where Hubert knew her room to be. “But the guard only just now let me come! I would have been with you all day!”

Distantly, Hubert recognized the armored guard standing a few paces away, watching the scene play out. But his mind reeled at the sudden turn of events. Where he’d been prepared to stand vigil at his brother’s grave alone, in silence, now two people stood by his side. Ferdinand and Edelgard came to  _ him  _ when he felt most alone.

Hubert found he was even worse at receiving comfort than providing it. He squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look at Edelgard a second longer.

“That… that was an unnecessary risk, Lady Edelgard.” It was easier to fall into a familiar role.

“I wanted to be with you!” Even without his sight, he could hear the pout in her voice. “And I wanted to thank Caleb.”

“Of course,” Ferdinand sighed, meeting Edelgard’s eyes. “How fares Lord Elric?”

Edelgard’s eyes fell to her feet.

“I see,” Ferdinand sighed.

While Hubert’s brother fell, Edelgard’s brother still lived. Surely, that was what Caleb died protecting. All of the Vestras pledged to die defending their charges. Unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple.

“He’s awake,” Edelgard said softly. “He’s eating. But no matter what the healers try, he won’t respond.’

Hubert finally opened his eyes, exhaling a shaky breath. “At least he lives. My brother can… can rest knowing that.”

“Yes!” Ferdinand exclaimed, with that boundless optimism that never failed to annoy Hubert. “As long as the prince yet lives, there is still hope!”

Edelgard smiled through the tears brimming in her eyes. “I missed both of you terribly.”

“We are always with you!” Ferdinand insisted. “In spirit, if not in person.”

“I, however, will never leave your side,” Hubert promised.

“It is not a competition,” Ferdinand said irritably.

Hubert’s mouth turned up, in something resembling a smile. He looked to the wreath, still clutched delicately to his chest. He stepped forward, onto the fresh dirt, giving way under his feet. He knelt and laid the wreath gently against the modest headstone. The wreath was still ugly, likely wouldn’t even last a day before the string came undone, and the wind carried it away.

But Caleb would have liked it, knowing that Hubert’s friend made it.

Ferdinand bowed his head, hands clasped before his chest. He looked much the same as Caleb had, deep in prayer. “I didn’t know you very well. But you were a true noble,” he murmured. “I hope you find peace in the Goddess’ embrace.”

The dirt crunched under Edelgard’s feet, as she stepped up beside Hubert. “Thank you, Caleb,” she said quietly. “For protecting my brother.”

If Hubert wiped the tears from his eyes, that could be his secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: aftermath of the death of a minor, graphic descriptions of a minor's dead body that's been exposed to the elements and scavengers for an extended period of time, eye/body horror in relation to said body, religious imagery, hubert experiences some depersonalization/derealization, hubert has a panic attack, hubert vomits
> 
> look the ending is happy
> 
> come talk to me on [tumblr](https://aceyuurikatsuki.tumblr.com/)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert and Edelgard meet with a ghost on the eve of change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> check the end notes for detailed warnings

Soft light filtered through gossamer curtains, spilling onto polished ashwood. Beams of sunlight cut across the floor, trailing up crimson bedsheets. There, set aflame on a throne of blood-red silk, lay Elric von Hresvelg. Eyes like glass beads gazed out the window, meeting the warm embrace of the sun. But none of that warmth was reflected in his features.

The attending priestess stood by Elric’s bedside, bent at the waist to meet his eyes. “Is everything to your liking, my lord?”

Elric offered no response, gaze blank even as the priestess broke his line of sight. The priestess sighed, unease creasing the lines of her eyes. She held an empty food tray in her hands, hot tea set by the prince’s bedside. Elric made no motion to drink it.

The priestess turned to face Hubert and Edelgard. “Are you here to see His Highness?”

Hubert stood in the doorway of a room he had never before been welcome in, hands clenched at his sides. Under normal circumstances, Hubert would have been wary to so much as gaze upon its finery. Surely his unworthy eyes would leave a trace: a speck of dust upon the intricate Dagdan carpet, a fingerprint on the gold foil bed frame. Now though, Hubert could only stare at the visage of a man familiar but wholly unrecognizable.

Edelgard was far more at ease, even in the room’s somber atmosphere. She stood straight, hands clasped in front of her, eyes on the priestess instead of her brother. She smiled politely with a nod of acknowledgment. A moment of awkward silence passed, the only sound the open and close of Hubert’s gaping mouth.

Edelgard eyed him briefly, and upon realizing he wasn’t going to answer spoke up. “Yes, we’re here to see my brother.”

The priestess smiled, deep lines forming around her mouth. “Do you hear that, Prince Elric?” She knelt again. “Your sister is here to see you.”

The puff of Elric’s steady breathing was his only response.

The priestess turned to Edelgard, smile full of melancholy. “I’m sure he’s delighted to have you.” She motioned to an armchair near the window. “Please, let me know if there’s anything you require.”

Her heels clicked against the floor as she walked, leaving only the silent prince in the center of the room. Edelgard strode easily to Elric’s bedside, taking a seat at his head. Hubert was far more apprehensive.

Tentatively, Hubert walked forward. His steps were light, muffled on the Dagdan carpet worth more than all his worldly possessions. If Hubert made too much noise, if the floor creaked, he feared the moment would shatter.

Two small wicker chairs were set at the prince’s bedside. It spoke to the numerous visitors Elric had entertained in the short time he’d laid in bed. Edelgard sat in the one closest to Elric’s head. Hubert lowered himself into the other, hands folded neatly in his lap. He had yet to see the prince since Elric had returned from Garreg Mach. Before that, he hadn’t seen Elric in over eight moons.

The ashen man laying in Lord Elric’s bed was a far cry from the sunny, gregarious man Hubert had once known. Despite the strong muscle cording Elric’s arms and shoulders, the lord almost seemed to cave in on himself. The gaping crimson mouth of pillows at Elric’s back threatened to swallow him whole. Elric’s hair had grown, it hung messily braided over one shoulder. But where once the prince’s hair had shone golden like the sun, it now paled, stringy and almost sickly white.

The man before Hubert showed nothing of the healthy, vibrant man Caleb von Vestra had served. Hubert cleared his throat, heavily. Elric’s eyes never strayed from the window, from the harsh sunlight cutting over the bridge of his nose.

“Good morning, Elric.” Edelgard gently reached over, taking Elric’s limp hand in her own. “I brought Hubert to see you.”

Hubert coughed awkwardly into his hand. “Good morning, Lord Elric.”

Hubert didn’t expect a proper response from Elric. If it were that easy, someone before Hubert would have been able to draw a reaction from the prince. Elric held Edelgard’s full attention, as she gently rubbed her thumbs in circles over Elric’s hand.

“I hope you are doing well,” Edelgard sighed. “Things have not been the same since you returned.”

Hubert sat back, hands folded over his knees, and let Edelgard have a moment with her brother. She and her other siblings had visited him many times since his return. Elric’s mother often sat at his bedside, braiding Elric’s long, thinning hair. None of his visitors sparked a single hint of recognition.

“I brought Hubert with me this time.” Edelgard glanced to Hubert at her side. “You had something you wanted to say, did you not?”

In truth, Hubert would have been content to let Edelgard talk at her brother for hours. He wanted answers from Elric. But in the prince’s state, Hubert knew no answers would come. He still needed to try, even in the face of failure. Yet, once he had met that failure head-on, he would be left with nothing.

Hubert glanced between Edelgard and Elric, then finally opened his mouth. “I know our interactions were limited.”

Part of Hubert, a rather  _ large _ part, wanted to forget this whole endeavor. There was no point in talking to someone that would never respond. Whatever Lord Elric had been once, none of that remained. The person in Lord Elric’s bed was a hollow shell of the man Caleb had served. There were far better uses of Hubert’s time.

“But you are important to Lady Edelgard.” Still, Hubert persisted. “And therefore important to me.” Hubert’s met Edelgard’s eyes. “She misses you dearly.”

Edelgard’s gaze dropped to her and Elric’s joined hands. The mention of Edelgard’s name did nothing to pull a reaction from the prince. Not that Hubert expected it to. All of Elric’s siblings had been in to see him, however briefly. Edelgard included. Edelgard had sat in the same chair she sat in now, pleading the prince to return, to show  _ some _ sign that he was still the brother Edelgard adored. Yet Elric’s empty gaze never wavered.

Huber thought it better to cut to the chase. “You were dear to my brother, as well.”

What would Caleb think, were he here now? Would he see Elric’s state as a failure? Blame himself for failing to protect Elric from what they had encountered in Hrym? Or would Caleb simply be grateful that Elric yet lived? Say that Elric escaping with his life was victory enough?

The details of Elric’s condition were a tightly kept secret. From what Edelgard told Hubert, many doctors had examined the prince, yet none could find any physical ailments affecting him. All manner of medicines and tinctures had been applied, and still, the prince remained unresponsive. Either Elric was under the thrall of some dark magic, or his curse was a psychological one.

So many questions remained unanswered. Those mysteries plagued Hubert as he struggled to fall asleep. What was Elric’s business in Hrym? How had their party been caught unaware? Why had Elric been left alive?

As long as the prince stilled his tongue, they would never know what he had seen.

“I… have something for you.”

Hubert reached into his pocket, grasping a long chain. He held it aloft, a burnished metal ring swaying in the air. Sunlight gleamed off of bronze wings.

“My sister found this around Caleb’s neck.”

Hubert spoke softly now so that the priestess in the corner wouldn’t overhear. Edelgard’s eyes widened, catching on the chain in Hubert’s hand. The ring danced, twisting lazily at the end of its chain. It shined almost gold in the light.

Elric still stared past Hubert and his sister, past the material world with foggy eyes. What Lord Elric saw, only the Goddess knew. If Hubert positioned his hand correctly, aligned with Elric’s unmoving gaze, he could almost imagine Elric stared at the ring. It was easier, in a way. He could pretend Elric watched him, watched the ring, and that it filled Elric with the same emotions it did Hubert.

“You gave this to him, did you not?”

In all the years Hubert had known Caleb, Hubert could count Caleb’s close allies on one hand. The number of people Caleb would carry a torch for only needed one finger. Hubert recalled Edelgard’s challenge from all those months ago, her sureness that Elric had no intention of finding a wife. The ring’s craftsmanship, the eagle wings inscribed in its metal… there was only ever one option.

Elric never responded. Hubert had no way of knowing if Elric even  _ heard, _ if Elric even  _ understood _ what was happening. But watching Elric’s face, Hubert remembered the brightness Elric used to carry. Elric shined like the midday sun, and never failed to pull others into his orbit. Caleb had been pulled; Caleb had willingly fallen. Hubert could see it as clearly as if Caleb sat beside him, the way Caleb’s eyes softened every time they found his lord’s.

That was all the confirmation Hubert needed.

Hubert stood, gently threading the chain through his hands. He placed it around Elric’s neck. He had to stand on his tiptoes to reach. The ring settled just above Elric’s clavicle, flame touched gold flickering in the light. It laid against Elric’s pale, sallow skin like it had always belonged there.

“My brother would have wanted you to have it.”

He felt Edelgard’s eyes on him as he sat back into his chair. He met her gaze, the weight of their grief shared between their eyes. They were two sides of the same coin. Each of them had lost something irreplaceable. Their brothers had shared something precious and in the end, it had cost both of them.

“Hubert.” Edelgard finally spoke, breaking through the heavy silence. “You are… dear to me”

“Just as you are to me,” Hubert replied in kind.

Edelgard cast her gaze to her brother, motionless on his crimson throne. “I do not want this for us.”

Hubert nodded solemnly. “I will do my utmost to protect you.”

“You misunderstand me.” Edelgard faced Hubert with pleading, amethyst eyes. “I do not want to  _ lose _ you.”

At that, Hubert fell silent. He saw Elric and to him, the greatest tragedy was that Elric could no longer lead. On the surface, it seemed that Caleb had sacrificed himself for nothing. If Edelgard were in Elric’s position, it would be Hubert’s greatest failure. But Edelgard saw her brother and regretted that Elric lost the person he cared for most.

Anyone could die for Edelgard. “I…” Hubert would live for her. “I promised you, did I not? That I would always be by your side.” His mouth pulled into a solemn smile.

Edelgard’s face bloomed, her cheeks flushed as her eyes brimmed with tears. “Don’t ever forget.”

“I swear it.”

Ever so slowly, Edelgard reached over to grasp Hubert’s hand. “Just as you are promised to my service, I am promised to you.”

Hubert stared at their joined hands. It was horribly improper for them to touch so openly. His father would have his head if he knew. But Edelgard was his charge. Edelgard was  _ his.  _ If she held no concern, then neither did he.

Hubert squeezed back, her hand so much smaller than his own. “We will be together for the rest of our lives.”

“No matter where life takes us.” Edelgard’s palm lay soft against his as she held tight. “We’ll go together.”

* * *

_ Vigorous shaking roused Edelgard from her sleep. _

_ “Huh?” Edelgard sat up, rubbing her eyes. _

_ Beyond her window lay the formless, inky blackness of Enbarr’s night. She blinked, a familiar face swimming in front of her eyes. _

_ “Uncle? What’s going on?” _

_ Volkhard von Arundel held a finger to his lips. “Quiet, Princess, there’s no time.” _

_ He took hold of her arm and pulled. Even with her crest, Edelgard couldn’t hope to struggle against someone so much taller and stronger. She stumbled out of bed, her feet tangling in the blankets. Arundel cut a straight path to Edelgard’s door. _

_ “Where are you taking me?” Edelgard asked, digging in her heels, trying to slow Arundel’s movements. _

_ Arundel peeked through the doorway, surveying the hall. “We need to leave. You are no longer safe here.” When he deemed it safe, Arundel pulled Edelgard through. _

_ Logically, Edelgard understood Arundel’s words. But so much was lost in all the things he didn’t say. _

_ “Why not? What’s happening?”  _

_ Arundel quickened his pace, footsteps echoing through the palace’s empty halls. Edelgard’s shoes beat a fast staccato at his side, as she struggled to keep up. _

_ “It will all be explained later.” Edelgard’s skin purpled beneath Arundel’s fingers.  _

_ “You’re hurting me!” _

_ Arundel only held tighter. “I’m sorry but we must leave. It is no longer safe here.” _

_ “Where’s mother?” _

_ Arundel shook his head, jerking Edelgard closer to his side. “There’s no time. We will reconnect with her later.” _

_ Edelgard quieted, dutifully following Arundel’s lead. “When are we coming back?” _

_ “When it is safe.” _

_ Edelgard’s thoughts drifted to her life at the palace, at the people that filled her days with light. What would they think tomorrow? When they woke and she was gone? Would she be able to write them? Explain that they were in her thoughts? _

_ Hubert had promised not to leave her side, yet here she was abandoning him in turn. _

_ Edelgard tugged against Arundel’s hold. “Can’t I say goodbye to Hubert and Ferdinand?” she pleaded. _

_ Arundel didn’t even spare her a glance. “No. They will survive without you.” _

* * *

When Hubert awoke that morning, he had no reason to suspect this day would be different than any other. He cleaned his face in the washroom, dressed, and walked down to the dining room, as he did every morning. His father sat at the head of the table, Heidrun on his right. Isolde was notably absent.

A lukewarm cup of earl grey tea sat at Arvid’s elbow, only half empty. Scraps of breakfast remained on his plate, runny egg yolk soaking into half-eaten bread. Hubert took the seat at Arvid’s side, reaching for the steaming biscuits in the center of the table.

Heidrun watched him with piercing eyes. “Nice of you to finally join us,” she drawled.

Hubert shot her a venomous look, grasping his butter knife like a weapon. “Can you pass the jam?”

Heidrun nudged it across the table, amusement gleaming in her eyes. The servants swept out of the kitchen, placing a tray piled high with sausage and eggs before Hubert. Arvid dismissed them with a wave of his hand. Arvid watched Hubert with a calculating eye, face stony, revealing nothing of what churned below the surface.

It didn’t escape Hubert’s notice. Hubert ate a piece of sausage, an egg, some stale bread, all under the silent eyes of his family. Finally, he sighed, pushing his half-empty plate across the table.

“Father, may I be excused?” Hubert asked. “I am to assist Lady Edelgard before today’s history lesson.”

A palpable silence fell over the three Vestras. Heidrun sat stock straight in her chair, refusing to meet Hubert’s eye. In contrast, Arvid held Hubert’s gaze and refused to let go. He stared through Hubert’s skin as Arvid would one of his prisoners. Eyes pierced Hubert’s skin, searching for those secrets Hubert would take to the grave. When Arvid looked at Hubert what did he see? A son? A threat?

“There will be no need for that,” Arvid finally said, voice stiff and calculated.

Hubert balked. “I made a promise to Lady Edelgard.”

Arvid’s eyes never left Hubert’s, as he took a deep, steadying breath. “And you will be unable to fulfill it.” Arvid folded his hands atop the table. “From this day forward you are relieved of your duty to Edelgard.”

Hubert’s throat closed around a heavy stone. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His mind dissolved into mist. His duty to Edelgard was  _ everything: _ his purpose, the reason he’d  _ been born.  _ Duty flowed in his veins, Lady Edelgard’s resolve formed his singing heart. For Arvid to dismiss him was as if he’d pulled the still-beating heart from Hubert’s chest.

“That’s impossible. What have I done wrong? How can I make her satisfied?”  _ We promised. _

Arvid held up a hand, stopping Hubert in his tracks. “You have done nothing wrong, Hubert,” Arvid said, voice heavy, struggling to do what he must.

“Then why am I being cast aside?” Hubert asked.

“Edelgard is no longer in Enbarr.”

Hubert shot up from his seat. “I’ll go to her!” His one thought, looping endlessly in his mind, was to  _ find Edelgard. _

“You will do no such thing.”

Hubert met his father’s eyes again. Arvid’s eyes a mask of steel, all Hubert could see was a torturer’s hand against infallible iron will. He stared Arvid down, Heidrun’s eyes carefully scanning his face. Hubert trembled under the eye of two people far stronger than he. His hand shook.

“She  _ needs _ me,” Hubert insisted.

“That is no longer your concern!” Arvid growled, mask breaking for just a moment, to reveal the  _ anger _ lurking beneath. “From now on, your duty is to  _ survive _ and nothing else!”

The world tilted on its axis. Hubert stared into his father’s face with wide, unseeing eyes. His father had raised him on tales of duty, nobility, and honor in servitude. Hubert had listened. Once a blank slate, Hubert had filled himself with his father’s words, had built an empire of Arvid’s teachings. Only now, he saw the foundation was a pillar of sand.

“Father.” A fog obscured Hubert’s voice like he spoke in a faraway dream. “What have you done.”

Arvid closed his eyes and spoke as if the world weighed on his shoulders. “What I had to.”

For the first time, Hubert realized he had never known his father.

Hubert’s eyes flickered to Heidrun. Heidrun sat still, stagnant, refusing to meet Hubert’s gaze. No shock etched itself in her face, her eyes hooded and gray. Hubert’s gaze pierced Heidrun’s cheek, begging for some sign that she still knew her duty, that Hubert had one ally left in his family. None came.

He bolted.

His dining chair clattered to the floor. Hubert just needed to escape. By any means necessary. He would burst down the door, break glass, dig through the goddess damned  _ foundation _ if he had to. Edelgard couldn’t have gotten far. Hubert was fast, he’d escape others’ detection. If he could just find her, they could begin to right his father’s wrongs.

But a second chair hit the ground as Heidrun leaped after him. Hubert was small and sneaky, but Heidrun had always bested him physically. She was stronger, faster, ready to do what needed to be done. She chased after him like a lion running down a wounded deer. Hubert barely made it a few steps. Heidrun’s long arms reached out for him, and her nails like claws snagged in his shirt.

With Hubert securely in her grasp, she  _ shoved,  _ tackling him to the ground. Hubert’s feet slipped, failing to find purchase on the slick wood floor of Nerium Manor. Hubert instinctively stuck out his arms, trying to brace himself. Under Heirdun’s weight, his chest slammed to the ground. His left arm made a sickening crack. 

Heidrun straddled Hubert’s back, using her weight to keep Hubert’s arms pinned between his chest and the floor. Hubert still struggled, through the overwhelming pain. He had to reach Lady Edelgard. Failure wasn’t an option. He  _ could not _ fall here, no matter what agony he endured. Tears beaded at the corners of Hubert’s eyes, pain lancing through his arm.

“Get off me!” Hubert growled.

He tried to gain purchase by shoving his cheek to the ground. If he could just make enough space for an arm to slip free, he might be able to unbalance Heidrun. But Heidrun’s hold was impossibly solid. All Hubert could focus on was the pain in his arm. It wouldn’t respond to Hubert’s commands. Whenever it shifted, pain shot up through his shoulder. 

Blackness encroached on Hubert’s vision, the pain pulsing behind his eyes.  _ No. _ Hubert  _ refused _ to give in. He had to fight. He had to  _ win. _ He grit his teeth against the pain, telling his arm to  _ move. _ But it wouldn’t respond. No matter how Hubert struggled, he couldn’t find an escape.

“I’m the eldest now!” Heidrun screamed into Hubert’s ear, teeth bared. “You have to listen to me!

“Never!” Hubert spat into the ground. “You’re both traitors!”

He met Heidrun’s eyes over his shoulder, his wild and desperate, hers that same cold charcoal he had known all his life. Hubert flashed his teeth, sharp canines glinting in the light. He wouldn’t hesitate to tear out her throat. He just needed a chance, for her to slip up  _ once. _

“Heidrun, stop,” Arvid ordered.

Obediently, Heidrun slid off Hubert. Her hands stayed braced on his shoulders, keeping Hubert from running. Arvid knelt beside his son, inspecting Hubert’s injured arm. Hubert kicked out, trying to catch Arvid or Heidrun unaware. But Heidrun caged in his legs with her own. She knew a wounded animal when she saw one.

If Hubert looked up, he would see the olive green eyes Arvid had given him.

Arvid skimmed his fingertips along Hubert’s arm, touch clinical. “I’ll call the priestess for some healing,” Arvid finally said and rose to his feet.

Hubert squeezed his eyes shut, tears falling down his cheeks. “I will  _ never _ forgive you.” he hissed. 

He had promised Edelgard forever. And yet she was to face it without him at her side. For all his struggles, Hubert could not follow Edelgard into the sunrise. He could only sob into the floor of his childhood home, under the eyes of his family and an uncaring Goddess.

Hubert wished he would die, and take this failure to the grave.

Arvid watched Hubert’s body shake with sobs. Arvid’s eyes remained carefully blank. He had known the consequences when he sent word to Duke Aegir. As he replaced the Emperor’s servants with spies, he knew it came at the cost of a thousand lives.

And still, he had chosen this path. There was no going back.

“I do not need your forgiveness,” Arvid spoke with iron resolve. “Nor do I want it.”

Arvid stared down his nose at his youngest… his  _ only _ son. 

“I need you to survive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: referenced death of a minor, minor character shown experiencing extreme PTSD, casual ableism in reference to nonverbal character, minor-on-minor physical violence
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/aceyuurikatsuki)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edelgard is gone, and Hubert finds himself alone for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the part of the story where everything just gets worse
> 
> see the end notes for detailed warnings

White magic pieced the bones of Hubert’s arm back together. He stared blankly at the ceiling, a priest kneeling at his bedside. The priest’s faith tingled like peppermint tea as it mended Hubert’s body. It felt nothing like Caleb’s. 

Hubert wanted to push him away, to cast him off and break his arm against the wall. What use was faith when it could not save his brother? When it could not keep Edelgard at his side? What Goddess would see his father’s treachery and allow his priests to use Her power?

But Hubert could not summon the strength for even that little effort. What would be the point? Edelgard would still be gone, Hubert would still be a loyalist in a family of traitors.

Hubert holed himself in his room for days, refusing to eat or speak to his family. What was the point? Before, he would report to Lady Edelgard every morning, attend lessons at her side, guide her into becoming the royal she was meant to be. He had constructed his whole life around Edelgard. With her gone, the foundation crumbled.

What was his purpose without her?

“You cannot stay here for the rest of your life.” Arvid stood next to Hubert’s bed, glaring down at the lump of blankets.

Hubert kept the sheets tight over his head, back facing his father. With any luck, he would suffocate in the nest of his pillows.

“You are angry.” Arvid breathed out his nose. “But it is not a Vestra’s nature to simply lay down and  _ die.” _

_ Watch me, _ Hubert thought bitterly. He didn't give his father the satisfaction of a response. Day after day, Arvid was forced to watch his only son waste away. Hubert lay in bed, cloaked in the shards of his broken will, and Arvid could do  _ nothing. _

Arvid left, and the next morning Isolde took his place.

Hubert’s mattress dipped with her weight, as Isolde sat beside him. There was no indication that Hubert had moved since Arvid’s visit. Isolde looked over her shoulder, at the blankets twisted around her son, so much like the shroud Caleb had been buried in.

“Hubert,” she called softly. 

She gently laid a hand on Hubert’s shoulder, feeling the ridge of his bone through the blanket. Hubert allowed it. His limbs were too heavy to fight anyway.

“I know you are hurting.” Isolde gently rubbed her hand along the length of Hubert’s arm. “I know Lady Edelgard was dear to you.”

Hubert’s chest  _ screamed, _ pressure building inside the cage of his ribs. Edelgard was not just “dear to him,” or his “friend.” She was his sunrise, and sunset, the axis on which his world turned. He’d thought his father, and Heidrun understood.

“You are young.” Isolde squeezed Hubert’s shoulder, desperate to feel her son’s touch. “You may yet see her again, one day.”

That wasn’t  _ enough. _ Why couldn’t she understand that would never  _ be _ enough? Hubert was meant to stand by Edelgard’s side, for good or ill. The promise of a far off “someday” could never fill that void. Every passing moment that Hubert was not at Edelgard’s side was another failure.

Hubert had amassed so many failures.

“I do not understand duty the way you and your father do.”

Hubert wanted to snap that Arvid knew  _ nothing _ of duty.

“My duty has always been to you and your siblings.”

Tenderly, Isolde pulled back the covers that Hubert hid inside. He let her, bones weary just from hearing his mother’s voice. Beneath the blankets that encased her son, Isolde found a shock of untamed, dark hair. Unwashed hair, skin mottled red, Hubert’s face was the most handsome she had ever seen.

Isolde smoothed the hair back from Hubert’s forehead. “The world is changing.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to Hubert’s cheek. “It’s time we find our place in it.”

They could tear down the walls of the palace, raze the entirety of the empire, and build a new world atop its ashes; Hubert’s place would always be at Edelgard’s side.

Hubert didn’t rouse that day or the next. He ignored the food the servants left outside his door, no matter how his stomach ached. Everything his father owned had been earned by cutting the heart from Edelgard’s empire. Hubert would rather starve than take part in that.

On the fourth day, Heidrun entered Hubert’s room. She stood in the doorway, arms crossed in front of her chest, observing as her baby brother wallowed in his self-made tomb.

“Father sent me here. He told me to drag you out if I had to,” Heidrun said, voice unmoving like her charcoal eyes.

Hubert remained motionless.

“We both know I could.” Heidrun stared daggers into the back of Hubert’s head. “It would be best if you made this easy.”

Hubert’s jaw shook with the force of his anger. Why should he make  _ anything _ easy, after what Heidrun had done? After what their father had done? How could they ask anything of him, like  _ he _ owed  _ them _ a debt?

“I don’t see the point.” Heidrun stared at the cocoon of blankets, at the pitiful creature that had made its home in Hubert’s skin. “If you’re so set on starving to death, I say let you.”

Her voice was the adder, slithering through Hubert’s sheets. Hubert knew damn well Heidrun’s words served as her spear. They were chosen carefully, targeted to be the dagger between his shoulder blades. Worst of all, it  _ worked. _

Her lip curled back, teeth flashing like knives. “You’re so busy feeling sorry for yourself you’re ready to throw away the one thing you have left to give.” 

Heidrun crossed the room in two strides. Palm on the bedspread, she leaned over Hubert’s body. She hissed in his ear, the adder hidden in his bed.

“Is that what Caleb would do?”

The adder sank its fangs into the meat of Hubert’s neck. It held tight, even after Heidrun left. Its poison infected Hubert’s veins until no part of his body remained. He shook with rage, in his crypt of blankets. As much as he hated her, she was  _ right. _

As long as Hubert had his life, he could still serve Lady Edelgard.

* * *

When Hubert left the halls of Nerium Manor, a new world awaited on the other side. The emperor rarely left the throne room, save to make the arduous journey from his quarters. Emperor Ionius IX could barely stand. He walked with the assistance of an eagle-headed cane, and two servants at his side. His voice no longer carried, swelling to fill the entirety of the throne room. As a child, Hubert would watch the emperor at court, and his heart beat to the rhythm of Ionius’ words. Now, every word had to be conveyed through the Prime Minister’s ears.

Duke Aegir did nothing to hide his glee.

At Duke Aegir’s side, Arvid von Vestra stood. Vestra handled the affairs of the palace, the imperial guard, the servants, and the spy network; Aegir handled everything else, taxes and policies, attending to simpering nobles. One could almost believe nothing had changed, except for the emperor, hands clenched on his golden throne.

Duke Aegir told the people that Emperor Ionius IX had fallen ill, likely from the same condition Elric suffered from. Lady Edelgard and many of her siblings had chosen to leave. It was for their own safety, to preserve the royal bloodline should Adelaide fall to illness.

It was easier, more comforting for the people to believe Duke Aegir’s lies than the truth.

Lady Adelaide became little more than a prisoner in her own home.

Hubert found her in the garden, sitting at the tea-table they used as children. A female knight stood vigil at Adelaide’s side. Hubert briefly met the guard’s eye. It was the same woman that kept him from Lady Edelgard the day Caleb returned to Enbarr. She pointedly placed a hand on her blade without any hint of emotion. Hubert turned to Adelaide.

A light breeze tousled her auburn hair, as she flipped through the pages of a notebook. Hubert took the seat across from her without ceremony. Adelaide looked up, startled from her reverie.

“Oh, Hubert.” Adelaide brushed her long bangs back with one hand. “It is good to see you again.”

“And you, Princess Adelaide.” Hubert bowed his head.

She painted on a polite smile, hiding behind a carefully crafted facade. “It has been some time.”

“It has.”

The last time Hubert had seen Adelaide, Caleb had been alive, Elric still smiled, and Lady Edelgard stood at his side. It had only been a handful of weeks since Caleb’s death, and yet it seemed like another lifetime. The Hubert from before had been so carefree, hosting tea parties with Edelgard and playing childish games. The world had shifted beneath their feet and they hadn’t even noticed.

“I am… sorry for your loss,” Adelaide said, her eyes falling.

Even Caleb’s funeral seemed so far away now. Then, the only ghost on Hubert’s back was that of his brother, and not the weight of an empire.

“And I yours.”

Even Adelaide’s false smile could not conceal the grief in her eyes. She placed a hand on her breast, over the gaping wound that her brother used to fill.

“I am… thankful that Elric lives.” Adelaide measured her words, speaking with the utmost care. “That is a blessing, however small.”

A blessing? Hubert could almost laugh. He restrained himself, coughing into his hand. There was no gain in branding himself a heretic.

Hubert met Adelaide’s eyes. Time and time again, his father told him that a person’s thoughts lay in the pool of their eyes. As much as he hated the man, now, those tools were his only weapons.

“I was not speaking of just your brother.”

Adelaide’s eyes widened, then darted to the book in her lap. Hubert leaned over, stretching his neck to peer inside. Adelaide made no move to hide it from him, as paper-thin oleander met his eye. She turned the page, this time a red dahlia peeking out from the leaves.

“Did you know I have always loved flowers?” Adelaide hummed, flipping through the pages.

Crocuses, cyclamen, and aster. “I have seen every bloom that Enbarr has to offer.” A shadow passed over Adelaide’s face. “I asked Elric to bring some back for me.”

Gently, Adelaide shut the cover with a sense of finality. “I found this among the belongings the monastery returned.”

Her fingers skimmed delicately over the leather binding as if the cover itself was a flower. She raised her head, but instead of meeting Hubert’s gaze, she looked past him. She stared off into the wide-open sky, stretching out over the whole of Adrestia.

“I have read about poppies that grow in the northern tundra, and colorful orchids that grow on the coast of Brigid.” 

Adelaide’s eyes fell, fingertips ghosting over leather. “I had hoped to see them one day.” She clutched the notebook to her chest. “I suppose this is the closest I will ever get.”

Hubert glanced at the guard standing vigil at Adelaide’s side. The knight’s eyes flashed with stony resolve, hand unmoving from her blade.

Ostensibly, the twenty-four-hour guard was for Adelaide’s own safety. The Imperial Guard’s discerning eye kept assassins at bay and ensured that should the palace fall under attack, the princess was protected. Realistically, they were the edge of a dagger, pressed into the soft flesh of Adelaide’s neck.

Adelaide held her ill brother’s last gift, ready to lie down and accept a fate she hadn’t earned. “Why didn’t you escape?” Hubert asked, voice pitched low.

Adelaide’s eyes briefly flickered to the guard. Her gaze settled on the tea-table, where the ghost of Edelgard still played. Adelaide’s face warmed with the glow of a melancholy smile.

“Someone had to.”

Hubert exhaled heavily, with all the weight of the wind in Adelaide’s hair. The same way that Caleb had taken the blow that might have stolen Elric’s life, Adelaide had offered herself on the altar so that her siblings could escape. The crown princess locked herself in this gilded cage and hoped that freedom found her loved ones.

Hubert stood, chair scraping on polished stone. “Foolish.”

As the crown princess, Adelaide’s first duty was to the empire and its people. Had she run and gone into hiding, she may have been able to raise an army. If she exposed Duke Aegir and rallied the people, doubtless some would follow. The power of Seiros’ crest carried weight within the empire.

By giving herself up, she shirked that duty. She placed her power in the hands of someone who only served himself, who had already betrayed the empire. She chose her family over the entirety of Adrestia. She chose  _ Edelgard _ over the whole of the empire.

“Maybe so,” Adelaide sighed. “But I would proudly play the fool again.”

Given the choice, so would Hubert.

* * *

In the weeks after Duke Aegir seized power, it was impossible to step foot outside the palace without hearing whispers of the royal family.

“Let’s be sure to stop at the temple and pray for His Majesty.”

Most of it was idle gossip.

“I heard that Prince Elric contracted one of those  _ Leicesterian _ diseases and passed it to the emperor!”

Some of it distasteful to Hubert’s ears.

“Did you see Marquis and Marquise Vestra at court today? They didn’t even look at each other! In a year’s time, she’ll have packed her bags to Hevring territory.”

Some dangerously close to the truth.

“Don’t you think the Prime Minister seems a little  _ too _ pleased at the emperor’s illness?”

And rarely, ever so rarely, useful.

“My cousin in Arundel says they saw Lord Arundel  _ himself _ at his own manor.”

Hubert paused at the market stall, an unripe apple in hand.

“They’re just trying to impress you. Lord Arundel hasn’t been seen in weeks.”

“It’s true! My cousin tends the crops on Lord Arundel’s land!”

“Hey,” the stall owner barked, breaking Hubert from his concentration. “If you aren’t going to buy then make way for other customers.”

Hubert scowled and dropped the apple unceremoniously onto the pile. “Fine.”

He stepped away from the stall, the crowd of people in the market spilling into the space like water. Shopping could wait. Hubert had more important matters to attend to. He honed his senses, searching for one voice in a sea of hundreds. The sounds of the market blurred together. Vendors hawked their wares, yelling into the anonymous crowd, leather shoes scraped on stones worn with time, the fountain in the square bubbled pure spring water. Hundreds of people spoke simultaneously, all struggling to be heard over the others.

Hubert centered himself. He closed his eyes, and let his ears paint a picture. To his left, the rude fruit vendor already snapping at another customer. To his right, a woman lamenting the increase in grain prices. He began to pick the voices out one by one.

“Do you think Lady Anselma is with him?”

There. Hubert slipped through the crowd, a rat scurrying beneath the eyes of the crowd. He found the gossipers tending a stall selling fine linens. They wore expensive clothes, one bore a gold necklace, the other a red silk shawl. Despite their expensive trappings, they lacked the ornamentation of nobility. Wealthy commoners, likely merchants themselves, Hubert surmised.

Hubert ruffled his hair, untucked his shirt, and rubbed his dust-stained palms against his face. “Excuse me, miss?” Hubert asked meekly, doing his best to look small.

The women turned at Hubert’s voice. Red Shawl’s eyes immediately softened, seeing a twelve-year-old boy in the midst of the market. Hubert had to fight back his smirk.

“Oh, dearie, do you need help?” Gold Necklace asked gently.

They likely suspected Hubert had gotten lost in the crowd, or needed help finding the wares his mother had sent him for. Briefly, Hubert considered playing along. It was possible he could glean more information by playing a longer gambit. However, he suspected neither of them knew much of anything.

“No, I’m quite alright…” Hubert shuffled his feet awkwardly. “I just… I know it’s rude to eavesdrop but I was at the fruit stall and I couldn’t help but overhear…”

Red Shawl laughed heartily. “Oh, it’s alright. I know I speak loud enough to be heard clear across Embarr! I know you didn’t mean to!”

Of course, she would hardly have needed to talk so loud for Hubert to hear her voice.

Still, he allowed his face to relax. “Oh thank you, ma’am.” Hubert wrung his hands. “It’s just that, I heard you mention Lord Arundel. You see, my father served him before our lord simply left.”

“Oh, you poor dear,” Red Shawl cooed, clearly taken by Hubert’s act.

“He was always kind to me. I would like to know that he has fared well in his time away.” Hubert looked to the women with hopeful eyes. “Did your cousin tell you any other news of Lord Arundel?”

Gold Necklace placed a hand over her heart. “You’re such a sweet young man. Your father must be very proud of you.”

“My cousin didn’t say any more than that, I’m afraid.”

Hubert’s smile fell, a pout forming on his lips. “Ah, I see.”

Red Shawl pursed her lips. “Tell you what, after today we’re packing up and heading for Varley. I’ll send word to my cousin to ask if they’ve seen anything else. When we’re back in Enbarr at the end of the month, I’ll let you know what they say.”

Hubert’s mask brightened. “Oh, you don’t need to go through all that trouble for me!”

“Nonsense, sweetheart! It’s no trouble at all!”

“Thank you!”

Hubert bought a fine cotton scarf from the stall as thanks. He certainly didn't need it, but he could use it to buy a favor from one of the palace servants. In this new world, they had proved to be his greatest allies. Nobles paid them little mind, and their loyalty was easily bought.

Especially for a member of House Vestra.

Hubert returned to Nerium Manor, to the bedroom that had become his sanctuary. He closed the door with a quiet  _ click,  _ ensuring that no one could catch him unaware. He sank to his knees, reaching beneath his bed. A couple of books on military tactics sat piled next to the head, and a stray shoe near the wall. Hubert’s fingers curled around one of the floorboards, lifting it to reveal a small compartment.

Inside lay a stash of erotic novels, lewd drawings torn from the pages of library books. To anyone else, they would see the clutter of a normal teenage boy, with normal secrets. Hubert reached for an artfully worn copy of  _ The Leisure of Lions _ and opened the cover, its spine creasing with wear.

The hollowed-out pages concealed a creased map of F ódlan. Hubert pulled it out, carefully unfolding the map and spreading it over his bedroom floor. The map was smaller than Hubert would have liked and excluded a few notable settlements. But Hubert was restricted by a lack of funds and the need for secrecy.

An array of brightly inked shapes colored the map’s surface. Red stars marked the path from Enbarr to Merceus, a line of blue crosses led into Ordelia, and a single black triangle fell on Rusalka. Most of the markings centered on the empire, but a blue circle stretched all the way to Fraldarius in the north. Hubert had his doubts about that one.

He grabbed a quill and inkpot from his desk, then drew a single black circle over Arundel. He sat back on his heels, the map laid out before him. He took a moment to survey his findings, searching for patterns in the shapes.

A cluster of black circles led from Enbarr through Merceus, around the Oghma mountains to Hevring, then north. It would make sense if Volkhard then traveled to Arundel. Hubert’s fingers traced the red stars, following the curve of black circles until Merceus, where they suddenly stopped. What Hubert truly wanted to know was if Arundel still traveled with Edelgard.

But he could glean no more from paper and ink.

* * *

Without Edelgard present to serve, Arvid increased Hubert’s lessons. The majority of his day was spent in textbooks, learning history, public policy, and diplomacy. It was laughable, really. Those were the types of lessons  _ Ferdinand _ attended. Hubert had no use for diplomacy. He was a  _ vassal,  _ not a politician.

Heidrun rarely slept at their home, on account of her new responsibilities. In the snippets of conversation Hubert overhead, she had been removed as Adelaide’s vassal, and her duties took her away from the palace. She would appear and disappear without warning. Hubert would fall asleep to silence in the room next door and wake to Heidrun rummaging through her drawers. He would catch glimpses of her in the palace when he was certain she was away.

Clearly, Hubert had been identified as a problem and Arvid’s goal was to waste as much of Hubert’s time as possible. Even so, Hubert devoted himself to his lessons. The more knowledge he held, the better he could serve Lady Edelgard, one day.

For now, if he could no longer serve Lady Edelgard, the next best choice was Lady Adelaide. In the brief free time between Hubert’s lessons, he made a habit of seeking her out. He often found her in the garden, at Edelgard’s favorite tea-table, or in the stables talking to Brunhild. Every time, that same guard (Roswitha, Adelaide called her) stood watch.

Today, Hubert found her in the chapel, sitting in the first pew. He walked to her, ignoring the divine judgment of Seiros and the prickling of his skin. He made no effort to conceal himself, his footsteps ringing loudly against the Saints’ ears.

Quietly, Hubert took the seat at Adelaide’s side. Adelaide’s upturned face glowed with radiant light, her auburn hair shining beneath Seiros’s gaze. She held for a few seconds, before lowering her head, eyes fluttering open.

“I didn’t know you still prayed,” Hubert said flatly, careful not to betray his own feelings.

Adelaide met his eye. “Sometimes,” she admitted.

Her eyes flickered notably to Roswitha, who stood dutifully at the chapel entrance.

“I cannot leave.” Adelaide’s hands fell to her lap. “All I can do is pray for them, and hope the Goddess is listening.”

Light shone through Seiros, spilling over the chapel’s altar like water. Hubert met those green eyes and his stomach turned. Part of him wanted to escape this place, run out into the open air, and bury Seiros deep in his memory. But he remained, meeting her gaze with a challenge.

“I have no need of prayer.”

He felt Adelaide’s eyes on his cheek. Her gaze was warmer than the unfeeling, hollow eyes of Seiros. Hubert turned to meet her.

“I suppose you would not,” Adelaide sighed. “You still have your freedom.”

Silence swelled to fill the chapel. The moment hung heavy between Hubert and Adelaide. Hubert would hardly consider himself free, bound by the shackle bloodline and nobility. But to Adelaide, who lived under constant surveillance, unable to leave the palace, Hubert supposed his imprisonment looked much like freedom.

Adelaide ducked her head. “Forgive me, that was out of line.”

“No, Lady Adelaide, I spoke much too callously.” Hubert bowed slightly. “But I  _ do  _ come with a request for you.”

Adelaide blinked at him curiously. In all of Hubert’s twelve years, she had never heard him ask for  _ anything.  _ “For me?”

Hubert nodded. “I remember your skill with black magic from when we were children.”

Years ago, Edelgard had been too short to see over the fence into the training grounds. Hubert would sit her on his shoulders while they watched her older siblings train. Adelaide had drawn sigils with her fingers, reciting words of power under her breath. A summer gale blew from her fingertips. Blades of wind cut into the training dummies, slicing them to pieces. All without Adelaide ever taking a step.

“Would you teach me?” Hubert asked.

Adelaide’s eyes widened. “Teach you… teach you  _ magic?” _ She asked incredulously.

Hubert nodded, hands clenched at his sides. The glowing, holy sword in Seiros’s hand inevitably drew his gaze. It mocked him, the goddess’s might forged into a weapon that he struggled to wield. 

“I have always struggled to wield a blade.”

Reeds rapped across his knuckles time and time again.  _ Lady Edelgard is two years your junior, yet can wield a blade better than you. How will you protect your lady if you are weak?  _ But no matter how many splinters he bore in his palm, no matter the blisters between his fingers, his blade would never strike true.

His studies in magic permanently stalled at textbooks. His father and tutors thought him too young, too precocious to be trusted with magic. Now that he was older, political turmoil stayed his father’s trust.

“I still need to become stronger,” Hubert finished.

There was power in faith; he had seen it at Caleb’s hand. Hubert needed to find a power of his own.

“I understand.” Adelaide bit into her lip. “But I am no teacher. Surely, there are better tutors than I.”

Hubert met her eye. “Perhaps. But none that I would trust.”

A flush of red crawled up Adelaide’s neck. She ducked her head, unable to keep Hubert’s gaze. Despite the brusque candor that had always gotten Hubert into trouble, he held a certain charm. When you held his respect, his layers peeled back like a flower coming into full bloom. He was so unfailingly  _ earnest _ when he wanted to be. He gave voice to his devotion without a shade of hesitance or embarrassment. Eyes full of resolve to pierce the darkest night.

“That is… a great honor, coming from you.” The corner of Adelaide’s mouth curled into a smile.

“Hardly,” Hubert huffed. “Not when it is earned.”

Adelaide felt she hadn’t done enough to earn Hubert’s trust. How could she possibly be deserving of something so rare, so fragile, so easily broken? All she had ever done was lock chains around her ankles and hand her captor the keys.

“I… I will do my best,” Adelaide promised.

Hubert’s lips curled into a smile, flint striking steel in the darkness. “Thank you, Lady Adelaide.”

“Your thanks are unnecessary.” Adelaide looked forward, at the visage of Saint Seiros towering over them. “It is the least I could do for a friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: brief suicidal/self-destructive thoughts from hubert, political imprisonment of a minor
> 
> you can talk to me on [tumblr](https://aceyuurikatsuki.tumblr.com/)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hubert tries to protect what remains with what little power he has.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> slfjskjjfs i haven't updated this in a month and a half despite having a backlog of *checks google doc* almost 60k
> 
> i changed jobs recently and that + everything that's been happening. Outside. means i haven't written any more of this fic since the last update. and tbh i haven't really had the motivation to edit what i already have.
> 
> BUT this morning i saw someone added this fic to their rec list which sdjfksdaljf. i was under the impression that i was the only one reading this. so i figured i might as well keep publishing what i have written even if I'm not keeping pace like I want to.

Time passed. Hubert traded the scarf he’d bought for intelligence on Roswitha. (She was from a commoner family in Aegir, raised to be one of the Duke’s personal guards.) He returned to the market stall at the end of the month. (The cousin had only seen Arundel the once and had nothing else to report. Hubert bought another scarf.)

Espionage was tedious work.

Hubert strode through the hall, on his way from diplomacy lessons to history when a maid stopped him. “Sir, Vestra!” she called.

Hubert stopped, not bothering to turn. The maid jogged up to meet him. Her face was familiar. Hubert had given her one of his mother’s pearl earrings in exchange for keeping an eye on this wing of the palace.

“You dropped this, sir.” She held out her hand, palm down.

She could certainly use some lessons on subtlety. Really, Hubert couldn’t expect much. These were servants, not trained spies. His father held a monopoly on decent spies, and they were all far too loyal to take orders from Hubert.

Hubert slid his palm against the maid’s, transferring a small scrap of paper into his closed fist. He nodded his thanks and continued on his way. He rounded two corners and ducked into a recess against the wall. There, he finally felt secluded enough to open his hand and peek at the note inside.

_AH in chapel_

It was hardly the complex ciphers Hubert had been raised on. Anyone with a brain could deduce that “AH” stood for “Adelaide Von Hresvelg.” At least this servant knew how to write, some of the staff didn’t and Hubert had quickly excluded them from his ranks.

Hubert promptly tore the note into pieces and threw it in the nearest lamp.

Every afternoon, the scraps of time Hubert wrenched back from his tutors allowed him to meet Adelaide at their spot in the gardens. Adelaide pulled every book on black magic from the palace library. They spread out before her in an impressive array, ranging from complex magical theory to experimental spells, to the history of magic itself.

Roswitha stood guard over them, as always. In time, Hubert learned to ignore her, let the knight fade into the background. He would have preferred for his lessons to be a secret, a surprise he could pull out if Roswitha’s masters ever pressed the blade into Adelaide’s neck. But Hubert had to work with the cards he was dealt. Unfortunately, this time, he was working at a disadvantage.

Hubert leaned against the old umbrella pine at the far end of the gardens, in Adelaide’s favorite glade. A book titled _Foundational Reason: The Nature of Change_ rested in his lap, its words swimming before his eyes. Hubert tilted his head back, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You are just like my instructors,” Hubert sighed heavily.

Adelaide looked up from the chain of valerians in her lap. “How so?”

Hubert’s eyes bore holes into the pages of text. “It is not enough to know _how_ to wield a dagger. We must understand the _history_ of it, must read about proper technique.” He put on a pompous air, boisterous and loud.

Adelaide chuckled into her palm. “You sound like Ferdinand.”

“Because this is the exact, inane drivel he would love.” Hubert held up the book and waved it through the air. “What good is magical _theory?_ Theory will never teach me how to end the life of an enemy.”

“If you wanted to learn that, I am afraid I cannot help you.”

Hubert sighed, placing the book back in his lap, searching for where his eyes had left off. “No, just the magic is enough. It is a means to an end.”

“You were the one that asked me to teach you.” Adelaide’s voice danced through the air. “Are you regretting that decision?”

“Hardly. I am just… eager to leave the textbooks behind.”

“You might be surprised what you learn from books,” Adelaide countered. “Magic… _black_ magic is all about understanding our world.”

Hubert turned the page, equations filling the space like lines of ants marching across the page. “Then it’s a wonder anyone can use magic. One could spend their whole life trying to understand our world and get nowhere.”

“I disagree,” Adelaide said firmly.

Hubert glanced up. Adelaide spoke with a rare conviction, so sure in her beliefs that they became fact. Adelaide had rarely spoken so bluntly. Hubert couldn’t remember her ever openly disagreeing with Edelgard. Adelaide tended towards gentleness, guiding her sister towards a better path, disagreeing without spoken words. Adelaide only ever spoke curtly with Heidrun, when Heidrun strayed from Adelaide’s wishes. The memories soured in Hubert’s mind.

“You are confusing the world for the people that live in it.” Adelaide sat with her face tilted skyward, turning the flower garland in her hands. “Men are complicated, but the world at its core is frighteningly simple.”

Hubert hummed. “You sound like my father.”

“Your father is a smart man.”

“And a disgusting cur that deserves no less than the deepest pit of the abyss.”

Adelaide’s hands paused in their work. She turned to Hubert, the divot between her brows telegraphing her concern.

“Do you truly mean that?”

Hubert couldn’t bear it, the radiant spotlight of Adelaide’s pity. Adelaide, who had been so deeply affected by his family’s treachery. Hubert couldn’t possibly be deserving, not when the blood in his veins was the very same as that which had set fire to Adelaide’s dreams. His gaze fell to the book in his lap, lines of equations blurring before his eyes.

 _“Yes,”_ he hissed. “He _and_ Heidrun betrayed everything our family has stood for.”

They threatened Edelgard’s safety. They separated Hubert from the person he was sworn to protect. Those were unforgivable sins. Hubert’s hands clenched on the book, fingers creasing the pages.

Adelaide watched in pensive silence. They had never spoken so candidly of what transpired, of the crimes Arvid committed against the Empire. She had suspected Hubert’s anger. She could see it in the rigid set of his shoulders, in the bitter edge of every spoken word. Ever since Edelgard left, anger cloaked Hubert’s every action.

“I do not blame you for the actions of your father,” Adelaide said. “I hope you know that.”

Hubert still couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes. He could not be so easily absolved of his failures. He _deserved_ that anger, Adelaide’s righteous fury at the crimes he allowed to happen. It would have been easier if he received it.

“Thank you, Lady Adelaide. That is… a great kindness.”

“I do not see it as a kindness,” Adelaide argued. “I see it as sensible. Truth be told, I struggle to hate even your father.”

 _“How?_ After what he’s _done_ to you?” Hubert hissed venomously.

“Your father has done nothing to me.” Before Hubert could open his mouth to argue, Adelaide barreled forward. “He weakened the emperor. I am just… a necessary tool to that end.”

“That in itself is _unforgivable,”_ Hubert argued.

“I never said otherwise. But I am only involved because of my blood, because of this crest.” Adelaide glanced to her lap, to her fingers weaving a rope of valerians. “You and I are casualties of our bloodlines.”

Hubert stared at her, for once, at a loss of words. His mind struggled to understand Adelaide’s logic, how she could even _begin_ to forgive Arvid for his actions. To Hubert, his father’s intent mattered little, when the result remained the same. Edelgard was gone, her future uncertain. Adelaide’s life had been thrown into similar turmoil. How she could sit there and claim her feelings _sensible_ was beyond Hubert.

Even so, her words held some truth, beneath the haze of absurdity. Neither he, nor Adelaide, nor Edelgard held any part in this conflict they were now entangled in. Neither did Elric, nor Caleb, nor any of the emperor’s other children. They were simply a price their parents had chosen to pay.

“Your words hold some truth,” Hubert conceded. “You are certainly right about one thing: mankind is complex.”

That earned a laugh, bubbling from Adelaide’s chest. It was better to hear her laughter, Hubert decided.

“It is!” Adelaide agreed, voice cheerful. “Sometimes I feel Reason is the only thing that makes sense.”

Hubert raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the book in his lap. “You think _this_ makes sense?”

“But it does!” Adelaide insisted, eyes still full of laughter. “Show me, what do you find confusing?”

* * *

The servant’s passages were vital in traversing the castle without being seen. Hubert only had to be mindful of the servants themselves, as commoners were not known for being quiet. Even then, if Hubert wore the uniform he’d stolen, the palace had enough servants that an unfamiliar face didn’t cause too much alarm. He still hid his face, it wouldn’t do to have someone recognize him as a member of House Vestra.

He waited in the corridor closest to Adelaide’s room, watching through the keyhole. The sun had long since set and Adelaide retired to her room for the night. Roswitha had traded her post with another guard, who stood watch outside Adelaide’s chambers. Hubert didn’t have a clear line of sight to Adelaide’s room through the peephole, but he had seen them pass by when Adelaide turned in, and he could hear them clearly.

Hours passed, during which Hubert kept vigil at the door, listening intently for any sign of movement. The only interruption was when a servant neared his post, during which Hubert ducked into a nearby linen closet. But it only happened once. Most of the palace servants had retired for the night and wouldn’t be up until it was time to clean in the morning.

Midnight began to close in, by Hubert’s estimate at least. He began to wonder if his intel had been wrong, if he’d miscalculated the pattern he’d been so sure of. Then, he heard boot-heels, sharply clicking on the wood floor. Hubert stifled a gasp. He _recognized_ those footsteps. Hubert held his breath as they swept past his post. The view through the peephole wasn’t wide enough to see their face. Even so, he knew it to be Heidrun.

When Heidrun passed, Hubert began to move. He followed her along the hall, towards Adelaide’s room. He couldn’t see Heidrun through the wall, but he could hear her easily. Hubert had mapped the inner workings of the palace long ago. He knew which floorboards to avoid and had taken care to oil the doors beforehand. He left his shoes behind, walking on the balls of his socked feet.

Heidrun stopped outside Adelaide’s chambers, as expected. There were no words, only a tri-patterned knock on Adelaide’s door. Hubert tapped it silently on his palm. The door opened, someone stepping out into the hall. Adelaide, Hubert recognized her footsteps, as well. Adelaide and Heirdun left, down the hall, back the way they’d come.

Hubert followed, through the corridor, moving so that not even his clothes rustled against his skin. They descended the stairs, and Hubert did the same. The servants’ staircase was far more precarious than the one in the main corridor. The steps were tall, winding a tight, dizzying spiral.

But Hubert had practiced this. He knew how to traverse the stairs quickly and silently, skipping the creaky fourth step. On the ground floor, there was another door across from the stairs that Hubert could use. He quickly peeked through the keyhole. Adelaide and Heidrun just descended the last step. Adelaide wore only her nightgown, thin purple silk the only thing preserving her modesty.

Had Hubert cared for propriety he might have averted his gaze. But he didn’t, and he didn’t. Adelaide walked in step with Heidrun. According to his sources, they had walked this path many times. Hubert searched Adelaide’s face, for the small glimpse of it he was allowed. Her eyes stayed on the ground, even as she strode forward. Her face was carefully blank, numb if anything. It didn’t give Hubert much to work with.

They turned from the stairs toward the chapel. Again, as Hubert expected. However, there was no servants’ door connected to the chapel. This was the closest one. To continue his surveyance, Hubert had to exit. Hubert would be able to gain more intel that way, but the risks were greater.

Hubert waited, listening as the pair walked down the hall, then turned into the sanctuary. Balancing alacrity with silence, Hubert turned the handle on the door. He’d made certain to practice earlier in the day, had made sure the door wouldn’t creak. It didn’t now, as he opened it just enough to slip through, and closed it behind his back.

In the main corridor, he was suddenly exposed. If anyone should chance down this hall, he would be spotted immediately. There was a knife tucked in his sleeve for emergencies, however, unless his life was truly at risk, it would cause far more problems than it would solve. Instead, he simply had to be perfect.

He hurried to the chapel, hugging close to the wall. At the door he paused. Thankfully, his targets had left it ajar. He used the door as a shield, as he peered inside.

The chapel was born anew under the cloak of night. The gold filigree became the glint of a dagger in the darkness, the stone busts a group of shadows, and Seiros herself, transformed into a dark warrior. Those formless eyes shined black in the moonlight, much like Heidrun’s.

Hubert’s eyes strained to peer into the darkness. Lit by the barest hint of moonlight, Heidrun and Adelaide stood near the altar, under the visage of Seiros. Silently, Hubert slid through the open door, ducking between the pews to keep watch. The pews provided the most cover and the best view. But he had to stay utterly silent. Just as he’d been trained in espionage, so had Heidrun, and she knew all of Hubert’s tricks.

Heidrun stood off to the side as Adelaide bent over the altar. It reminded Hubert of himself, leaning over Caleb’s body all those months ago. Adelaide’s hands skimmed over the far side of the altar. Hubert couldn’t see from his position. Her hand stopped, and there was a soft click.

Stone ground against stone, the entire chapel vibrating with the sound like a hymn. Hubert felt it in his bones, the very floor shaking as the altar began to slide back. Watching over it all were Seiros’ black, black eyes, like the holes in Caleb’s skull where eyes used to be. Hubert crouched to the ground, struggling to stay silent as the world shook beneath his feet. The sound continued for what felt like minutes, and all of a sudden, stopped.

Hubert’s whole body felt like it shook, but he couldn’t tell if that was real, or if it was simply his imagination.

He curled into a ball, hands over his mouth, desperately trying to muffle breathing he couldn’t hear. His ears rang, that ugly sound continuing in his mind long after it had stopped.

Two sets of footsteps descended, heels clicking on stone leading beneath the chapel. Another click and the grinding started up again. Hubert curled into himself between the pews, struggling to get ahold of himself. All he could see were Seiros’ eyes, and Caleb’s unblinking gaze tearing into his skin.

Slowly, his breathing calmed, his limbs stilled, and all he could hear was the silence of Seiros’ chapel. He looked up, over the rows of pews, to Seiros watching over her sanctuary. Beneath her, was that marble altar, still and silent as if it had never moved.

* * *

Hubert met Adelaide on the terrace overlooking the palace gates. As always, a stack of precariously balanced textbooks sat at the center of the table. Adelaide held a cup of steaming black tea in her hands, an empty one across from her. At Hubert’s approach, she turned and smiled, the midday sun lighting her cheeks.

“How are you this fine day, Hubert?” she asked cheerily.

Hubert’s eyes flickered to where Roswitha stood. She was unmoving, rooted to her perch at the top of the steps leading to the gates. She didn’t bother to meet Hubert’s gaze, eyes locked forward to survey the whole of the terrace. One could almost mistake her for an extremely lifelike statue.

“I could be better,” Hubert said pointedly, focus turning back to Adelaide.

“Yes, well.” Adelaide paid Roswitha little mind. “How was your history lesson?”

“Boring and full of propaganda.” Hubert took his seat.

Adelaide poured his tea without pause, clucking her tongue. “If you disbelieve everything you hear you are no better than the most gullible of fools.”

“I am sworn to the Empire, but I am not so naive as to think the history written in our textbooks is the truth.” Hubert took the cup from Adelaide’s hands. “Or do you think Faerghus knows the same War of the Eagle and Lion that we do?”

Adelaide’s eyes glimmered with amusement, chin resting in her hand. “I think the way your mind works is fascinating.”

“Hm. You are right. I doubt Faerghans learn _anything_ but how to wield a sword.”

Despite herself, Adelaide laughed into her hand. “Well, I certainly hope these textbooks are to your standards.” She passed a worn copy of _An Analysis of Sigils for the Beginner Mage_ across the table.

Hubert took it, splaying it open on the table. “We shall see.”

“I suppose that is one good thing about magic.” Adelaide’s eyes drifted to a spot over Hubert’s shoulder, brimming with the haze of fog. “No matter where it is taught or who pens its sigils, its laws never change.”

Hubert paused, carefully inked vellum pinched between his fingers. “Lady Adelaide.” He glanced up, trying to catch her unfocused gaze.

Adelaide snapped out of her reverie with a jolt, meeting Hubert’s eyes. “Forgive me, I became lost in my thoughts.” She gently shook herself back to alertness. “Now, I think you are almost ready to move to the training grounds. You just need to learn the proper sigil.”

Hubert hesitated to return so quickly to his lessons. He opened his mouth, waiting for the right words to fill the pause. But he found none. What was there to say? He and Adelaide both were locked in the same cage, only able to claw ineffectually at its gilded walls as the world outside turned to ash. Nothing he could possibly say would change that.

He closed his mouth, and turned to his book. “Of course.” Dutifully, he began tracing the sigil for a simple fire spell into his notebook.

They continued as such, Adelaide drinking her tea while Hubert’s cooled at his elbow. The rhythmic clink of porcelain drew Hubert’s attention from his book. He watched, eyebrows drawn together, as Adelaide struggled to set her teacup on its saucer. Her hands shook, tremors running all the way up to her shoulder. She glared at the teacup, frustration etched on her brow.

When tea began to slosh out of the cup over her fingers, Hubert finally intervened. He placed his hand down on the teacup, stilling it. Adelaide drew her hands back like she’d been burned. She grasped the wrist of one hand with the other, cradling it against her chest.

“Lady Adelaide, what—”

“It is fine!” she insisted. “I am… I am just cold.”

Hubert didn’t need to be trained in espionage to pick out that lie. Not to mention it was a balmy summer day in Enbarr. Sunshine bathed the terrace in its warm glow. If anything, Hubert was uncomfortably warm.

“You should go to the infirmary,” Hubert said, beginning to pack away the tea.

“Hubert, it really is fine.” Her hands still shook against her chest.

“I must insist—”

“Your sigil is wrong.” Adelaide nodded toward the drawing Hubert had copied into his notebook.

“Lady Adelaide,” Hubert said, unamused.

“If you make that mistake on the training grounds you will end up setting yourself on fire instead of your target.”

Clearly, Adelaide had a stubborn streak as wide as her sister’s. With a sigh, Hubert returned to his studies. Hubert held his sketch to the sigil in the text, his mistake almost unnoticeable.

“It is a wonder that any mage survives their training,” he grumbled, tearing the page from his notebook and starting anew.

“That is why it is important to spend so much time learning theory,” Adelaide chimed, a shaky smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I could have thrown you into practical lessons like you so wanted.”

“You would let me burn myself to ash?” Hubert spoke while beginning the sigil from memory.

Adelaide shrugged. “That is what healers are for.”

_Pop! Pop! Pop!_

Three ear-shattering cracks sounded just outside the palace gates. The eyes of every guard and bystander zeroed in on the noise. Adelaide shot out of her chair, hands still clenched to her chest. White fear swallowed the gray in her eyes. Roswitha unsheathed her sword, the midday sun glinting off polished silver.

“What was that?” Adelaide asked, eyes wild, flickering between Roswitha and Hubert for answers.

“Get down!” Roswitha ordered, taking a couple of steps toward the gates. “What’s going on?” she shouted to the palace guards.

Adelaide ducked behind the terrace banister, crouching on her knees. Hubert didn’t bother, eyes locked on Roswitha. She didn’t stray far, but her conversation with the guards kept her distracted. Hubert only had a few moments.

Hubert crouched next to Adelaide, gripping her shoulder with taloned fingers. “Calm yourself.”

Adelaide looked to Hubert with wild eyes. “How can you say that? We are under attack!”

“We’re not,” Hubert promised. 

Earlier that morning, in dirty clothes Hubert had approached a group of street children in the city’s lower quarter. He held up a warm loaf of bread stolen from the palace kitchens.

“Which of you would like to do me a favor?” he’d asked.

Children’s loyalty was incredibly easy to buy.

Hubert’s fingers dug into Adelaide’s shoulder. “Listen to me,” he ordered.

Hubert leaned in. Instinctively Adelaide did the same.

“What is beneath the chapel?” he asked urgently.

Adelaide jerked back, out of Hubert’s grasp. The blood drained from her face as her gaze locked with Hubert’s. Somehow, the fear in her eyes dwarfed that from before. She could no longer keep hold of her wrist, the shaking in her hands so bad they shook out of her own grasp.

“How do you know about that?” she hissed.

“That doesn’t matter, now _tell me,”_ Hubert implored her with his eyes.

He begged her to understand just how important this was. He and Adelaide had no real power. The only weapon in their arsenal was information. And even there, their captors held all the cards.

Adelaide’s eyes met his, wide, and for just a moment, full of promise. Then they shuttered, behind a gray haze.

“No.”

“Lady Adelaide, you _must.”_

“No!” she snapped, baring her fangs for the first time. “If you care at all for your life then you will forget what you saw.”

Hubert grasped Adelaide’s shaking wrists. “If you think I care for my life you do not know me.”

“My sister’s life then!” Adelaide’s gray eyes burned with an emperor’s resolve. “Do _not_ ask me again!”

“Your Highness,” Roswitha called, turning her laser focus back to Adelaide. “The danger is passed.”

Adelaide yanked her hands back from Hubert’s grasp. Hubert let his hands fall limply back to his sides. He’d played a gambit, and he’d lost. He doubted he would get another chance. Adelaide’s gaze never left Hubert’s as she stood. 

“Oh, thank you!” Adelaide spoke with a cheer that didn’t reach her eyes. “What was it?”

“Just some street rats, sneaking into the district, nothing to concern yourself with.”

Adelaide rose a pointed eyebrow. “Is that so. I wonder how they got in,” she said dryly.

Hubert shrugged silently in his defense.

“I’ve instructed the guards to conduct a full survey of the walls,” Roswitha assured Adelaide. “For the time being, I think it best if you return to your chambers.”

Adelaide finally tore her eyes from Hubert’s. “Yes. I believe that would be best.”

She and Roswitha disappeared into the palace. Hubert was left with a pile of textbooks, and a cooling pot of tea.

* * *

The guards repaired the well-concealed crack in the wall leading from the Caelian district. Enbarr was an old city with a storied history. In response Duke Aegir mandated more regular checks of the palace’s passive defenses. Peace had lulled the Emperor into a false state of security, it seemed.

Suffice to say, if Hubert needed to arrange another distraction, it would be much more difficult next time. While repairs were underway, Adelaide remained locked in her chambers. It echoed the tragedy over a year ago, when Caleb died and Elric returned a different man. It seemed that ever since, the trajectory of their lives had forever changed.

But even after the wall was repaired, and Adelaide’s imprisonment was lifted, Hubert couldn’t find her. He searched the gardens, her favorite copse of trees, and the stables. But she was nowhere to be found. Sometimes Hubert would enter a room and feel a warm zephyr blow through, filling the space that Adelaide once occupied.

She was avoiding him, it seemed.

In the early hours of the morning, just before the servants cleaned, Hubert entered the chapel. Gray dawn seeped into the walls. Seiros’ eyes glowed a soft green. Hubert paid them no attention, as he cut straight to the altar. 

He circled the altar, facing an empty congregation, just as a priest would. He skimmed his hands over its surface, as he’d seen Adelaide do. Surely there was a switch, some trick hidden in the bone-white marble. He spent so many summer afternoons investigating Nerium Manor’s secrets with Caleb and Heidrun. Ever since his father’s betrayal, he had played at creating his own.

If there was a trick to this altar, surely Hubert could find it.

His palms skittered over the surface. But no matter how many times he worried the old marble under his skilled hands, it refused to reveal its secrets. There was no lever, no facade, no crack in the stone that would yield to Hubert’s touch. Hubert clenched his fists on the altar. He slammed his hand on unyielding stone, as Seiros’ eyes mocked his failure.

He’d worked tirelessly over the past year, gathering what scraps of information he could. When he discovered the trick altar, he finally saw the edge of the precipice on which he stood. If he could discover Duke Aegir’s secrets and drag them into the light, he might just reclaim the power that was wrenched from his grasp.

He could bring Edelgard home.

Even if he couldn’t do that, information was his only weapon. The more he knew, the better he could bargain. But with Adelaide’s silence, he’d hit a wall. All those plans turned to ash in his hands. All that remained was an incomplete map full of stars.

On the floor of his room, Hubert sighed and inked a black circle over Arianrhod.

He gathered what information he could, exchanging trinkets that weren’t his with loose-lipped servants. The whispers and notes he received always led back to that same altar and the secrets it held. While one path had stonewalled him, one still remained.

He took Adelaide’s books to the training grounds. She no longer stayed his hand, leaving him free to try the more practical aspects of magic. He sat cross-legged on the dirt floor, a training dummy set up before him. _Sigils_ lay open on one side, _Foundational Reason_ on the other as Hubert thumbed through their pages.

Well, change always came with a little risk.

Hubert rose to his feet, the texts and the notebook full of sigils still on the ground. Hubert gave them one final glance before facing the dummy. He clasped his hands in front of his chest, similar to how one would in prayer. But instead of Caleb’s hymns he recited equations under his breath.

To invoke magic was to manipulate the laws of the universe. He had read magic theory until his eyes bled and he could recite the equations in his sleep. Those formulae would lead Hubert to the well of energy inside him. He would grasp that energy in his hands and set it alight.

It was all energy. His body heat turned to fire, his breath the summer wind. Magic was simply a conversion of power. Equations blurred in his mind, the world’s natural laws, used to form a spear from his will. He simply needed to speak it into existence.

Eyes closed, he imagined the symbol he’d copied, over and over again until its shape took root in his muscle memory. He traced the shape with his fingertips, following its curve in his mind’s eye.

He expected to feel different, as he finished the sigil’s path. Surely, there should be some change? The tingle of energy leaking from his fingertips? But there was nothing, only the hot evening sun lighting Hubert’s back.

No matter. Hubert thrust his opposite hand through the sigil. He captured that energy and shot it forth. Or at least he was supposed to. There was no heat curling on his empty palms, no crackle of fire born from nothing, and no burning straw filling the grounds with smoke.

Hubert opened his eyes, and the training ground was as he left it. The training dummy stared back, untouched, stones unscorched. Hubert cursed under his breath, sinking to his knees. He flipped through the textbooks frantically, searching for the step he’d missed.

After a few minutes of study, he stood and tried again. But this attempt only yielded the same result. This cycle repeated itself, over and over again, as Hubert struggled to summon even a single spark. 

The hours passed, the sun arcing its descent across the sky. Hubert’s shadow grew long, as he hunched over his notes and books. He’d followed Adelaide’s every instruction, what could he possibly be missing? He’d long since untucked his shirt, struggling to read his notes through bangs stuck to his forehead.

He brushed back his hair and stood for another attempt. He traced the sigil, thrust his hand forward…

“Trying to learn magic on your own?”

Hubert’s outstretched hand clenched. His eyes flew open, looking to Heidrun, slinking out of the shadows. His gaze sharp as a knife, Hubert imagined carving into her cheek with his eyes. Heidrun withstood his glare with thinly veiled amusement as she stepped out of the shadows.

She wore dark leather armor with metal greaves that clinked as she walked. Her hands hung limply at her sides, covered in the spined gauntlets she wore on her wyvern. Short, dark hair haloed her face, wild and untamed. It spoke of winds high above the city, her clothes ruffled on her travel weary shoulders. She must have just landed.

“That’s dangerous, you know,” Heidrun said, eyes a dark void as they leveled Hubert with her stare.

Hubert pulled his hands back to his sides, fists clenched. For a moment, he considered taking her bait, biting back with sharp words. But there would be no point. Between the two of them, Hubert had everything to lose and nothing to gain. Heidrun and her superiors held all the cards. Opening his mouth would only give Heidrun more information. Information was Hubert’s only weapon, he didn’t need to hand it to the enemy.

Hubert grabbed his notebook off the ground, and pointedly began flipping through it. “You’re still not talking to me?” Heidrun’s heels scraped against hard dirt as she advanced. “That’s fine.”

She drew to a stop three feet away, but her presence encroached on Hubert’s space. “I don’t need you to talk.” She folded her hands behind her back, standing at attention. “I need you to _listen.”_

Hubert watched her out of the corner of his eye. He was stubborn to the last, and refused to give her the satisfaction of his attention. 

“What you did with those children was very clever.” Coming from Heidrun, it stung like an insult. “And don’t think we haven’t noticed you paying off the servants.”

Hubert struggled to maintain his composure. He counted his breaths, hyper aware of the air moving through his lungs. He kept his face even, eyes focused on the book in his hands. He refused to let a twitch in his mouth or his brow give him away. Even as the stone sank in his stomach, he kept himself afloat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said without pause.

“Of course not.” Heidrun’s lip curled back over the dagger’s edge of her teeth. “Just remember, you and I are _both_ Vestras. I know all your tricks because they are _mine.”_ She stepped closer, toe to toe with her brother. “There is not a dagger up your sleeve that I have not made my own.”

The dagger permanently sheathed against Hubert’s forearm burned his skin. Hubert dropped his book, finally daring to meet Heidrun’s gaze. For the first time, he didn’t need to look up to meet her eye. He had grown since they last spoke, only just beginning to catch up to his sister.

His fingers curled in, touching the hilt of his dagger. If he was quick enough… maybe…

But even if he could kill Heidrun, what would he gain? He would have a dead sister and no idea where Edelgard hid. He would be punished, sent to the dungeons, possibly even killed. How would he help Edelgard then?

“You’re thinking about killing me.” Heidrun tilted her chin defiantly. “Do you really think you could?”

“I would slit your throat with glee as I watched the life fade from your eyes,” Hubert spat.

“But _could_ you? Do you really think you could take me?”

The dark void in Heidrun’s eyes gleamed with victory. Hubert bit his tongue, copper blood spilling in his mouth. She was _right_ and that failure seared itself to Hubert’s bones. Heidrun had _always_ been stronger. While Hubert struggled to wield even a simple practice sword, Heidrun could lance a target from forty paces. She excelled in aerial combat, something that made Hubert dizzy just thinking about. She was strong, fast, and she could pin Hubert to the ground.

“You can keep playing your games, pay off petty servants and think yourself some kind of _spy,”_ Heidrun hissed. “But you have no _idea_ the forces you are dealing with.”

Hubert’s skin crawled over blood boiling with anger. He _didn’t_ know because no one would _tell_ him. Even Adelaide sought to keep him in the dark, when he just reached the precipice of a breakthrough. Every avenue towards discovery he tried ended in a brick wall that he could never hope to climb.

“Then _tell me,”_ he snapped. “If you are so certain of your superiority then why not rub it in my face?”

Heidrun’s mouth creased in an amused smirk. “A good try. Maybe one day you’ll have some promise.” She turned on her heel, armor clinking as she strode from the training grounds. “Do _not_ become more trouble than you’re worth,” she warned.

Hubert’s hands clenched at his side, the only sound in his ears his own grinding teeth. No doubt his face and neck flushed with anger, burning his body from the inside out. His hands shook with the force of his fury, his own will turned to fire in his veins.

All that energy, pouring out from within.

In one last, desperate attempt, Hubert traced that same sigil in the air. There were no equations, no theory in his mind. He only held the blaze of anger behind his eyes and his own will turned to a weapon. He finished the sigil, and thrust his hand out towards his sister’s retreating back.

There was no dramatic fireball, like he’d hoped, no fire licking at Heidrun’s heel. But in the palm of his hand, he held a dark flame. The power to raze the world to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: political imprisonment of a minor, threats of violence from one minor to another
> 
> you can talk to me on [tumblr](https://aceyuurikatsuki.tumblr.com/) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/aceklaviergavin)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things in Adrestia take a turn for the worse, and Hubert struggles to tell friend from foe.

In Verdant Rain Moon of Imperial Year 1173, Adelaide fell ill. Hubert’s days were absorbed with lessons and espionage; he was outside the palace when Adelaide collapsed. He returned from the lower quarter to a murmur of disquiet among the nobles. Palace staff rushed through the halls, not bothering to use the servants’ corridors in favor of time.

He caught the arm of a servant carrying fresh linens. “What’s going on?” Hubert asked.

The servant tittered, clearly anxious to attend to their duties. “Have you not heard? Her Highness collapsed in the throne room.”

The blood drained from Hubert’s face. “What?”

“Sir, I really must be going.”

Hubert waved them off. “Go.”

They left, and Hubert felt the world shifting beneath his feet once again. He pulled aside every servant he could find, eavesdropped on every noble gossiping in halls. Hubert heard countless variations of the same story; during a meeting between Emperor Ionius and his ministers, Adelaide collapsed. She was summarily rushed to the infirmary and there had yet to be any news.

No matter how Hubert tried, he was unable to sneak into the infirmary. Roswitha stood guard at the door, sending him glares whenever he passed. There was no servant’s entrance in, the only other option would be the window. Given that there were likely nurses and priests at Adelaide’s side, he would be spotted almost immediately and thrown out. That left Hubert to simply wait.

Nobles whispered over his head, as if he wasn’t there at all, about how Adelaide had been growing weaker and weaker. They said that surely, the same illness that plagued Elric and Ionius before her now came for Adelaide. Weak, disease-riddled blood flowed through the emperor’s veins, they said. What other explanation could there be? For the emperor and so many of his children to fall to the same demon?

Hubert grit his teeth and headed for the training ground. He had better things to do than argue with spineless nobles.

By the end of the day, Adelaide had awakened. Once more she was imprisoned in her room for her safety. Despite Adelaide’s avoidance, Hubert wanted to see her. If her illness was not one of natural causes, as Hubert suspected, then Adelaide was one more in a long line of Duke Aegir’s victims. Adelaide might hold the answers to what happened to Elric. Hubert might yet discover what happened to his brother.

Hubert walked the hall to Adelaide’s chambers, on the opposite side of the keyhole he’d watched her through months ago. At midday, light shined through the palace’s windows, illuminating the portraits on the walls. Hubert passed a line of previous emperor’s, and the empty space where one day Adelaide would join their ranks. Once, that space had been promised to Elric. With Adelaide’s illness…

Hubert shook himself out of his thoughts. He would not allow himself to start down that path. With his pause, he noticed faraway laughter, carrying from far down the hall. Hubert took note, stepping lightly as he approached the sound. It had been a long time since he’d heard laughter echoing within these walls.

As he neared, he was able to make out two different voices, engaging in lively conversation. One was loud and boisterous, the other quiet, struggling to be heard beneath their companion’s laughter. The soft one was Adelaide, certainly. The loud one tugged on the strings of Hubert’s memory just the same.

“When you are better, I will take you on a ride to the sea!” Ferdinand promised, voice rattling Hubert’s bones. “Watching the sunrise over the southern sea is the most breathtaking sight in all of F ódlan!”

Adelaide murmured a reply, but Hubert was too far away to make out her voice. He stalked closer, peeking around the corner just before Adelaide’s chambers.

“I must be leaving,” Ferdinand said regretfully. “But I will be sure to give Brunhild plenty of carrots on your behalf!”

“Please do!” Hubert could barely make out her voice, raspy and weak. “I miss her terribly!”

“And I know she misses you all the same.” Footsteps sounded against the floor, approaching Hubert. “Please, take care of yourself. Focus on feeling well again.”

A pregnant pause. “Of course,” Adelaide rasped.

Though Hubert couldn’t see Adelaide’s face, her words rang hollow.

A door creaked open. Hubert hurried and ducked into a nearby tearoom. Of all the people to catch him eavesdropping, Ferdinand would be one of the worst. Ferdinand would likely march Hubert into Adelaide’s room and force Hubert to apologize for his impropriety. Even if Hubert pretended he was simply passing by, Ferdinand did not understand the meaning of discretion. Their conversation would be broadcast to the entire palace staff.

Hubert’s decision was not simply one of tactics. Hubert and Ferdinand had not spoken since Edelgard fled the Empire. That was by Hubert’s own design. Ferdinand was not a hard person to avoid. Unlike the heirs of House Vestra, Ferdinand had never been taught to move silently, to step lightly. In fact, Ferdinand seemed fit to announce his presence as loudly as possible to anyone in earshot.

Ferdinand’s mouth along with his blood ties kept Hubert out of his path. Duke Aegir, Ferdinand’s father had betrayed the Empire and forced Edelgard to flee. Ferdinand held ties to the enemy. Until proven otherwise, he could not be trusted.

So, Hubert hid and waited for Ferdinand’s loud, oafish footsteps to pass. Once Ferdinand was out of earshot, Hubert slithered from his hiding place and continued his path to Adelaide’s chambers. Roswitha stood outside, as Hubert expected.

Hubert made no effort to conceal his presence. When Roswitha heard him, she met his eye with an unmoved stare. If Hubert didn’t know better, he would think Roswitha had never seen him before.

“Halt!” Roswitha called as Hubert approached the door. “State your business.”

“I am here to visit with Lady Adelaide.”

Roswitha looked him up and down. Hubert stood straight, hands at his sides as always. Roswitha sighed, and rapped her knuckles on the door.

“You have a visitor!” Roswitha called.

“Who is it?” a scratchy voice replied from inside.

“It’s Hubert von Vestra. Shall I send him in?”

A heavy silence filled the air, as Hubert waited for Adelaide’s response. She had been avoiding him ever since that day on the terrace. Hubert realized it rude to ignore her wishes now that Adelaide physically  _ couldn’t _ avoid him.Even so, he hoped she would receive him, hoped he would receive another chance at gaining answers.

“Please!” Adelaide finally called, her voice holding no hint of anger.

Hubert took a step. “Halt!” 

Roswitha reached to grab Hubert's chest. He dug in his heels, twisting his torso to avoid the touch. Roswitha let him go, but held her palm up in warning. 

“Remove your weapons,” Roswitha ordered.

Hubert made a show of patting his waist, where he bore no sword and no sheath. “As you can see, I’m unarmed"

Roswitha’s eyes hooded with frustration. A heavy sigh escaped her nose. 

“The knives.” Roswitha held out her hand.

Hubert huffed and made a show of rolling up his sleeve and tediously unbuckling the knife strapped to his arm. He held it up for Roswitha's inspection and handed it over.

Roswitha gave him a pointed look. Hubert rolled his eyes before kneeling. He lifted his pants up to his ankles, and pulled the knife from his boot. Once more, he placed it in Roswitha's grasp.

Satisfied, she motioned for Hubert to enter. Hubert opened the door, smirking to himself as the knife tucked into his waistband pressed against his hip. 

Inside laid the sitting room, its decor as elegant as the rest of the palace. A dark cherry wood dining table sat in the middle of the room, a set of velvet chairs by the window. Natural sunlight streamed through the large windows looking out over the chapel and the gardens. Three doors laid against the opposite wall, each leading to separate bed chambers.

They used to house each of the emperor’s crest-bearing children. But now, Edelgard had fled Adrestia and Elric had been sent to Hrym to recover. That left only Adelaide, in this empty wing of a home that had once been full of life.

Edelgard had taken dinner here many nights, when she wanted to eat with just her siblings. Some evenings Anselma would join them, others it would simply be the three children. Elric would sit Edelgard on his lap, eating through his laughter. After dinner, Edelgard would sit by the fireplace, Adelaide braiding her hair with careful hands.

Adelaide sat in the armchair nearest to the window, a pot of tea on the table. Two teacups rested on it, one full and steaming, the other empty. Ferdinand’s no doubt. But in the empty chair across from Adelaide, an echo of a girl laughed. Her brown hair rippled in the light, hands fisted in a red dress the color of the evening sun.

Hubert blinked and it disappeared.

Only Lady Adelaide’s weakened smile remained. “Hubert,” she called, her voice the click of reeds by the pond.

Hubert slowly lowered himself into the seat facing Adelaide. Her hands trembled as they held the teacup, just as they had the last time Hubert saw her. More alarming, however, was the pallid shroud clinging to Adelaide’s face. Time and weariness etched themselves into her skin, aging her so much more than her thirteen years. Hazy, sunken eyes watched Hubert from behind tired lashes.

Adelaide’s hair limply framed her face. Normally vibrant curls frayed against her shoulders. Before, her auburn, sunburnt hair glowed, radiant like marigolds at the height of summer. 

Adelaide’s hair streaked white: an unfinished painting upon her skin.

“Lady Adelaide,” Hubert breathed, unable to tear his eyes from the girl wasting away in front of him. “What have they  _ done _ to you?”

Adelaide looked down, into her half-empty teacup. It shook between her trembling hands. Slowly, she set it on the table, movements careful and measured. Clearly, she had much practice.

Hands free, Adelaide folded them in her lap, one wrist gripping the other. “I am not sure what you mean,” she murmured, still refusing to meet Hubert’s eyes. “I have been ill.”

Hubert’s ribs squeezed the breath from his lungs. How many people had Adelaide told that lie? How many had believed it without question? As Adelaide withered away before their eyes? Just as her father and brother before?

“Lady Adelaide, you cannot expect me—”

Adelaide’s voice cut through the fog, weak as they were. “Hubert, please,” Adelaide rasped, closing her eyes. “I am  _ tired.” _

That, at least, Hubert could tell was no lie.

Hubert closed his eyes, an aching breath punched from his lungs. What was he to do? Adelaide was not his liege. He had no duty to follow her orders. In Edelgard’s absence, did Adelaide become his charge? Or was his duty instead to protect that which Edelgard loved at all costs? To lay down his life for Lady Adelaide in Edelgard’s stead?

How would he even begin to protect Adelaide? He held no power, nothing with which to bargain. He could not even cast a simple magic spell. If he even  _ tried _ to lay down his life for Adelaide, he would be swatted away like a bothersome fly. If Adelaide were his liege, he would do so in an instant. But should he die defending Adelaide, how would that serve Lady Edelgard?

The hard stone in Hubert’s chest shattered. He  _ had _ no choice. The best he could do was wait. Watch Adelaide wither away. Grow stronger. Survive until he was at Lady Edelgard’s side.

Hubert opened his eyes, sharp and piercing. “Fine,” He bit with gnashing teeth. “I hope…” 

He exhaled sharply, letting his anger out with his breath. He restarted with more composure. “I hope my presence is not unwelcome.”

Adelaide smiled, that same gentle kindness piercing through the veil. “It is not,” she assured him. “I am actually glad to see you.”

Hubert raised an eyebrow. “Really? Somehow you avoiding me gave me the opposite impression.”

Adelaide looked away, a sharp flush coloring her cheeks. The glow almost made her look healthy again.

“My… my health has been declining…” she admitted. “I… did not want you to see it.”

Silence filled the room at the implication of everything that went unsaid. They both knew that Adelaide’s illness was not born of natural causes, as much as she tried to claim otherwise. Adelaide refused to tell Hubert the exact manner of her illness, and so it remained a mystery. But as long as Duke Aegir and his cohorts remained in power, Adelaide’s condition was unlikely to improve.

What, then, had been Adelaide’s goal in avoiding Hubert? To keep him in the dark as long as possible? To protect herself from his prying eyes? To fade away into obscurity? One possibility stole what breath remained in Hubert’s lungs.

Adelaide had always been the gentlest of her siblings. Her compassion ran deeper than the southern sea. Had she distanced herself from Hubert to protect  _ him? _

Hubert clenched his hands at his side, the only sound in his ears the grinding of his own teeth. “Lady Adelaide, what… what can I  _ do?” _ he pleaded.

What was a vassal without a liege to serve? Without a hand to guide him, what was he to do? He had tried, and tried, and  _ tried _ to stop the world from spinning. But only an unyielding Goddess could stop the inevitable march of time.

As he watched his whole world alight beneath his feet, what could he do to hold onto the ashes?

Adelaide’s smiled a butterfly wing smile; fragile and so easily torn. “You can visit me?”

She made it sound so simple. So heartbreakingly  _ simple. _ As if visiting her would be enough to stop the fire from spreading. Enough to save her life.

If only the Goddess were so merciful.

“I will visit every day that I can,” Hubert promised.

* * *

Hubert made good on his promise. Where before he met Adelaide in the gardens or at the stables, now Hubert met her within the sitting room attached to her chambers. Most days, Adelaide struggled to walk the distance to her chair by the window. If she felt well enough, Hubert would walk with her to the small garden beside the chapel. When she stumbled, he would be there to hold her arm for support.

But most days they simply took tea by the sunlit window. Adelaide gazed out over the palace grounds, sun alighting on her pallid, sunken skin. Her eyes glassed over, and with solemn grace she observed the world she would never again be a part of.

Time passed, autumn turned to winter, and Adelaide grew ever weaker. Slowly, the color bleached from her hair, until only ribbons of the warm, russet sun remained. By the turn of the new year, she was more ghost than girl.

At only thirteen, Hubert could do nothing but watch.

One morning in the middle of Guardian Moon, Hubert walked the familiar path to Adelaide’s chambers. Just like that first afternoon he’d come to visit Adelaide, vibrant laughter echoed down the hall. Hubert recognized it at Ferdinand’s immediately. As much as he wanted to turn on his heel and avoid the situation, he’d made a promise.

Even if he hadn’t, there were benefits to speaking with the enemy.

He pressed on. He reached the sitting room, handed his knives to Roswitha, and entered. The air inside hung thick with cinnamon and nutmeg. A tower of baked goods leaned against an ornate teapot, resting on the table Adelaide and Hubert normally shared. In Hubert’s seat was none other than Ferdinand himself, his smile bright as the sun Adelaide once held in her heart.

Both turned to meet Hubert as he entered.

Ferdinand’s face froze, the laughter and sun-bright smile trapped in amber. In contrast, Adelaide’s former glow peeked through as she beckoned Hubert closer.

“Hubert!” she called, her voice reeling him in. “I am glad you came!”

She spoke as if she had not seen Hubert the day before. “I promised I would come every day that I could,” Hubert replied simply.

Ferdinand tore his eyes away, letting them fall to the teacup in his hand. “It is… good to see you.”

Hubert chose not to respond.

With great effort, Adelaide placed another teacup on the empty space at the table. “Please! Join us!”

Hubert could hardly refuse a request from the crown princess. He pulled over a simple wooden chair from the dining table while Ferdinand poured tea at Adelaide’s behest. He sat between Adelaide and Ferdinand, facing the window looking out over the chapel’s garden. In the winter chill, even the flowers there had died. Below laid nothing but cold stone and the frozen ground.

“This tea is my favorite for cold days,” Adelaide serenely said, gazing out to the cloud-covered horizon. “It tastes like the warmth of summer.”

Ferdinand’s smile trembled. At the rate of Adelaide’s declining health, there was no guarantee she would see another summer. To break the silence, Hubert sipped his tea. It burned, blistering the roof of his mouth. But through the pain, cinnamon swirled on his tongue. It tasted like winter days spent at Edelgard’s side and curling by the fire to warm cold hands.

It was the taste of a childhood ripped from their hands far too soon.

Hubert sat his cup on the table. “It is not so terrible.”

Adelaide tore her gaze from the clouds, falling back down to earth, to the cloying scent of cinnamon tea. “Ferdinand was kind enough to bring flowers from the garden.”

For the first time, Hubert noticed the wicker basket in Ferdinand’s lap. It was stacked high with all manner of winter blossoms. Delicate yellow jasmine lined the edge of the basket, woven between white snowdrops, topped with royal, purple irises.

“It is hardly worth mentioning.” Ferdinand coughed into his hand, a flush blooming up his neck. “I simply wanted to make sure you did not miss them.”

Ferdinand set the basket atop the table, radiant purple irises complementing the crimson of the sitting room. With a soft, broken smile, Adelaide reached for an iris with shaking hands, managing to cup it between them. Purple petals curled over Adelaide’s ashen, shaky fingers and she held the blossom to the light. It soaked up the sun, blooming between her palms.

Adelaide gently held the flower to her chest. “It was a lovely thought.”

“You could teach me how to make those crowns you love so much,” Ferdinand suggested, already reaching for a sprig of jasmine. “I have tried, but I must admit, I am not very good.”

Ferdinand shot Hubert a sheepish grin, but it bounced off Hubert’s cheek with no effect.

Ferdinand’s deft, lancer’s fingers gathered a handful of flowers. Already, he began to twine the stems of three jasmine blossoms. He managed to knot the stems with ease and gently pull the flowers through without tearing a single petal.

Adelaide watched the movements of Ferdinand’s fingers. Adelaide kept mementos of every flower she’d seen. She wove them into crowns settled atop brown hair and purple ribbon. Her hands took something wild and made it beautiful. But now, Adelaide struggled to hold even a single teacup. Her fingers trembled and didn’t respond to her commands.

She watched Ferdinand and her eyes brimmed with envy.

Adelaide shook the poison from her thoughts. “I think you are selling yourself short.”

“Perhaps.” Ferdinand paused on the crown. “But you were always better than I.”

Unexpectedly, Adelaide turned the spark of her attention to Hubert. “What about you, Hubert?”

Hubert blinked. Somehow, he hadn’t expected to be roped in. “I am no good with my hands.”

Ferdinand scoffed. Just like all those petty spats when they were children, Hubert knew Ferdinand was baiting him.  _ Ferdinand _ was far too noble and proper to start a fight. But if  _ Hubert _ started it, it would dishonor House Aegir not to retaliate. It was easy to pin all the blame on Hubert. He was simply a  _ vassal,  _ after all, little more than Edelgard’s lapdog.

Despite Hubert’s better judgment, he gave Ferdinand the attention he so craved. “Do you have something to say, von Aegir?”

Ferdinand startled at the venom in Hubert’s voice. Regardless, he pushed onwards, resolute as ever. “I was simply going to point out that you have always been more preoccupied with your knives than creating something beautiful.”

“Is that meant to be an insult? Knowing how to wield a knife is useful, unlike…” He gestured toward the tenderly crafted crown in Ferdinand’s lap.  _ “This.” _

“You are so horribly grim.” Ferdinand scrunched up his nose. “Have you never seen the beauty in art?”

“I have no use for something so frivolous.” Hubert’s nails dug into his palms.

“I would not say art is frivolous.” Adelaide hummed, her eyes glimmering with amusement. “It gives us hope, when we have none to spare.”

“Exactly!” Ferdinand gestured triumphantly to Adelaide. “How could you inspire a nation without art? Without poetry and song?”

“Inspiring a nation is not my  _ job,” _ Hubert snapped, lip curling over his teeth.

Black spots danced at the edges of Hubert’s vision and all Hubert heard was the rush of blood in his ears. How could Ferdinand spare time for  _ poetry _ and  _ song _ when the very heart of Adrestia lay under siege? Hubert’s spent every waking moment plotting and growing stronger, so that one day he might save Adrestia’s soul. Meanwhile, Ferdinand languished in overabundance, ignorant or simply uncaring to the world’s plight. Ferdinand held tight to his childhood, while everyone around him burst into flame.

“Hubert.” Adelaide’s voice soothed the anger in his heart.

He met her eye, only to find that her smile had faded, those gray eyes turned to stone. “Even for someone as serious as you, there is use in emotion,” she continued.

Hubert tore his eyes away. “I do not have  _ time—” _

“You will.” Adelaide’s voice rang clear and resolute, without the rasp she’d borne for months. “There are so many years stretching out before you.”

That those were years Adelaide lacked went unsaid.

“And…” When Ferdinand spoke, Hubert’s gaze snapped to him. “You do not have to be afraid.”

Ferdinand twirled a snowdrop between his fingers. He met Hubert’s gaze, and slowly, slow enough that Hubert could pull away, he reached out his hand. Hubert watched him, an animal baring its teeth. So many emotions warred in his head. He wanted to snap that he was not  _ afraid,  _ how dare Ferdinand make that assumption. He would slap Ferdinand’s hand away and storm out of the room. Another part wanted to simply turn away, hide his face and the blush crawling up his neck with his hands. And the last part wanted to simply let go.

They were right. He was  _ terrified. _ In only a few short years, so much had been lost, yet he still had so much left to lose. Time marched endlessly onward. He gnashed his teeth and struggled against its grasp. But he was just a man, no, a  _ boy. _ What changes would the future bring? What more would the Goddess steal away?

Hubert sat statuesque as Ferdinand tucked a single snowdrop behind his ear. Ferdinand burst into that radiant, sunny smile.

“There!” He turned to Adelaide. “He looks less dour, does he not?”

Adelaide giggled into her hand. “You look rather charming like that.” For once, Hubert couldn’t discern whether she was teasing or serious.

Ferdinand beamed at Hubert. “Like lipstick on a pig!” he declared.

Hubert scowled. “If we are discussing poor fashion, I believe that gaudy neck scarf you wear should be mentioned.”

Ferdinand’s hand flew to his cravat with a gasp. “You! Would not know fashion if it slapped you across the face!”

“As if you are not dressed by your servants every morning.”

“Just as a proper nobleman should be!”

Adelaide smiled and her eyes drifting to the sun hanging low over the horizon. Hubert and Ferdinand’s bickering faded into the background, as Adelaide met her own pallid reflection in the glass. How many more sunrises waited for her? She feared her weakened body only had a finite number of days. When she watched the sun set for the last time, would she know?

She turned away from the sun, to Ferdinand’s warm smile and Hubert’s clever eyes. When her time was up, would she have a chance to say goodbye?

* * *

They stayed with Adelaide for hours, long past the descent of the sun. The sitting room grew dark, only lit by the crackling fire. As the fire began to dim, so too did Adelaide’s spirit. Her lashes drew down over simmering coal eyes. She sank further and further into her chair, head lolling against her shoulder.

Ferdinand prattled on about his ride with Brunhild. The rhythm of his voice, like birds singing in the trees, lulled Adelaide to sleep. Wordlessly, Hubert watched Adelaide nod off, instinctively curling into the chair. Part of him didn’t wish to wake her. In sleep, the lines of worry on her face eased. For the first time in months, Hubert saw her truly at peace.

But neither could Hubert let her spend the night in a chair.

“Lady Adelaide,” Hubert cut through Ferdinand’s speech.

At his call, Adelaide jolted awake, eyes fluttering in the haze of sleep. “Hm?”

Hubert could not stop his mouth from curling into a smile. “I think it is time we bid you well for the night.”

Adelaide yawned, brushing the sleep from her eyes. “No, I… was simply… resting a moment.

“For once, I think Hubert may be right,” Ferdinand said. “It is important for you to get rest, Your Highness.”

Adelaide didn’t want the night to end. She would retire, awaken in the morning, and never regain those hours she lost to sleep. She only had so many left. Even so, she recognized the sense in their words.

“I suppose,” she sighed. “If I must.”

Adelaide braced her hands on the side of her chair and with great effort, pushed herself into a stand. Instinctively, Hubert stood with her, hovering by her side, ready to catch her if she fell. Adelaide’s reedy legs trembled beneath her weight as she took slow steps toward her room. Hubert’s hand hovered over her waist, walking in step with her.

Ferdinand averted his eyes, instead looking to the crown of jasmine strung between his hands. It was beautiful, doubtless the best wreath he’d ever made. Under Adelaide’s careful direction, it seemed so easy. Together, they had crafted something beautiful.

In just a few days, it would be little more than withered leaves and dried petals.

Adelaide bid Hubert goodbye at her door, hands braced on the walls of her chamber. Hubert turned on his heel and stalked out the opposite door, not even sparing a glance for Ferdinand. Ferdinand leapt to his feet, crown abandoned on the table.

“Hubert! Please wait a moment!”

Ferdinand rushed out the door in Hubert’s wake. Already, Hubert was halfway down the hall. He took long, hurrying strides, not even bothering to stop as he reaffixed the knife to his arm. Ferdinand jogged past Roswitha to catch up.

To Ferdinand, Hubert’s legs seemed to stretch for miles. He had always been taller, being two years older. Hubert’s recent growth spurt only exacerbated the difference. It was not becoming of a noble to run indoors, but Ferdinand would make an exception this once.

“Hubert, I’ve been meaning to speak to you!” Ferdinand called to Hubert’s back.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Hubert snapped.

The words stung. Ferdinand had gathered that Hubert was upset with him. Ferdinand had spent so many years struggling to befriend the older boy. Even though Hubert always sided with Edelgard and took every opportunity to insult Ferdinand’s character, Ferdinand saw a noble soul deep down. Deep, deep down. Hubert was loyal to a fault and more clever than he had any right to be. He would serve as a good ally when Ferdinand was Prime Minister.

Ferdinand felt five years old again, scrapping with Hubert over Edelgard’s tea time.

“Then you need not say anything at all,” Ferdinand assured him, still jogging to keep up with Hubert’s strides. ”I simply… wanted to let you know I understand things have been difficult these last few years.”

Hubert stopped in his tracks. “How.” His voice sharpened with every word, a knife against a grindstone. “Could you  _ possibly _ understand?”

Ferdinand flinched at Hubert’s barbed words. But fortune favored the bold, and Ferdinand pressed on.

“You have lost a great many people in a short time.” Earnestly, Ferdinand pleaded for the friend he’d known to return in place of this shadow. “Our plight may not be the same, but I have lost people, too.”

Hubert spoke with eerie calm, still as a tepid lake. “I did not lose anyone.” He whirled his eyes on Ferdinand, alight with green flame. “They were  _ stolen _ from me.”

Every muscle in Ferdinand’s body tightened, as he desperately fought the instinct to  _ flee. _ “I know it may feel that way—”

“You know  _ nothing _ of how I feel,” Hubert growled, his voice the rumble of far off thunder.

Indignant fury sparked in Ferdinand’s soul. “I know you’re still grieving.” Ferdinand lifted his chin, meeting Hubert’s eyes. “But Edelgard is my friend, too!”

“How  _ dare _ you.”

Hubert grabbed Ferdinand’s lapels. He drove Ferdinand back into the wall. Ferdinand’s head cracked against the stone. Dark spots danced on the edge of his vision. Ferdinand grasped at Hubert’s hands. Despite his age, normally, Ferdinand was the stronger of the two. But Hubert used his height advantage to push Ferdinand down. Hubert’s long, spidery arms kept him out of Ferdinand’s reach.

“Let go of me!” Ferdinand gasped, grappling with Hubert’s hands.

Hubert had no intention of doing so. He loomed over Ferdinand, sharp eyes digging into Ferdinand’s freckled cheek. Having someone pinned beneath him, at Hubert’s own mercy sparked a thrill in Hubert’s heart. For once he held the upper hand, the power to end someone’s life.

“I don’t know how you can stand to  _ look  _ at Lady Adelaide, much less call Lady Edelgard your  _ friend,” _ Hubert snarled. He shoved Ferdinand against the wall. “After everything your family has  _ done.” _

Ferdinand gasped, the stone digging into his shoulders. “What are you  _ talking  _ about?” he rasped.

“Your  _ father” —  _ Hubert spit the word like poison — “deposed the Emperor—”

“Are you mad?” Ferdinand exclaimed. “The emperor is  _ sick!” _

Hubert continued without pause. “—caused Lady Edelgard to flee—”

“Edelgard  _ left _ for her  _ protection!”  _ Ferdinand yelled incredulously.

“—and is poisoning Lady Adelaide as we speak!” Hubert pressed his knuckles into Ferdinand’s sternum. “All so he could gain power!”

“You’re speaking nonsense!” Ferdinand snapped, nails digging into the backs of Hubert’s hands. “My father has nothing to do with Adelaide’s  _ or _ the emperor’s illness!”

Hubert pressed harder. He wanted Ferdinand to remember this come sunrise. With every shove, every bruise Hubert marked on Ferdinand’s skin, Ferdinand’s eyes widened. He was an animal caught in a trap, fearing for its life.

_ Good, _ Hubert thought. “It is rather convenient that everyone who could possibly oppose your father’s power falls ill.”

“It’s not my fault the emperor’s bloodline is weak!” Ferdinand snapped.

Silence fell over them in a shroud. The pale skin of Ferdinand’s neck flashed above his collar. It would be so damnably  _ easy _ to cut clean through it and watch Ferdinand’s smile fade for the final time. The knife burned where it lay against Hubert’s forearm.

But killing Ferdinand would do nothing for Edelgard.

Hubert crowded into Ferdinand’s face, breath hot against the skin of Ferdinand’s cheek. “The only ones with a weak bloodline are you and your spineless coward of a father,” Hubert hissed.

“At least my father is not a bootlicking cur!” Ferdinand growled, nails raking down Hubert’s hands. “I know what your father did to House Hrym.”

“Hrym betrayed the Empire and deserved what they got!”

“Because Hrym was starving!” Ferdinand yelled.

Hubert’s lip curled back over his canines, threatening to sink into Ferdinand’s neck. “Are you truly so naive?” he hissed. “How has Hrym fared under your father’s rule?”

Ferdinand wrenched Hubert’s hands off his shirt. Hubert let him. Hubert had no desire to have his hands broken.

“Without Edelgard you are no better than a dog without its master,” Ferdinand spat. “You hold no power over me.”

Ferdinand stalked away, fists clenched at his sides. Clearly, he fought back the childhood urge to punch Hubert across the face. Part of Hubert wished he would, just to give Hubert the excuse to wrap his hands around Ferdinand’s neck.

“Why would I want to hold power over a useless coward like you?” Hubert shouted at Ferdinand’s retreating back.

Ferdinand paused, for just a moment, then continued on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: implied off-screen human experimentation, terminal "illness" of a minor, casual classism, thoughts of violence/murder from one minor to another
> 
> you can find me on [tumblr](https://aceklaviergavin.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/aceklaviergavin)
> 
> please consider donating your time or money to [Black Lives Matter](https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have been staring at this fic in my drafts for like 6 months and i'm tired of looking at it every time i go to my profile so i'm just going to post what i have and call it a day, this fic was going to be a lot longer but i think it ends on. some sort of resolution
> 
> i'll update with triggers at a later date maybe thanks

Hubert bided his time.

The weeks passed, winter turned to spring, the flowers beneath Adelaide’s window blossomed. But her illness only worsened, nearly all the color drained from her hair and skin. Only a few faint patches of auburn remained at her temples.

Some days, the weight of Adelaide’s own body trapped her in bed. She could not even drag herself to the window and watch the chapel courtyard. On those days, Ferdinand would sit by her side and read his lessons aloud.

Adelaide never thought she would miss the days of strict tutors and dense textbooks. She had been constantly under siege by the endless parade of names and ideas her father expected her to memorize. Adelaide missed having a future to prepare for.

“Will you sing me one of the songs from the opera, again?” Adelaide asked quietly, looking up at Ferdinand with doleful eyes.

Ferdinand paused in his recitation. “Of course! Just let me finish this last set of problems.” His quill scratched against vellum. “Which would you like me to sing?”

“The one with the sword dance?” Adelaide struggled to remember through the haze of her mind.

“Ah, Miss Casagranda’s work!”

“Yes! It sounds so wonderful when you describe it.” Adelaide closed her eyes against a wave of melancholy. “I would have liked to see it.”

Ferdinand’s quill paused, leaving a dark blot of ink at the page’s center. “When you are better”—Ferdinand fought against the tremble in his voice—“we will go see it together.”

Hubert stood in the sitting room, listening to their conversation with sharp ears. He held a basket of fresh baked bread, brought up from the kitchen. It was one of the only things Adelaide could stomach these days. He intended to share them with her, to ensure she ate and had company for the day.

But he had no desire to see Ferdinand. Besides, if Ferdinand kept her loneliness at bay, there was no need for Hubert. Hubert set the basket on the dining table. He tore off a piece of bread and shoved it in his jacket. He turned on his heel and silently left. There remained plenty of work to be done.

Word had reached Hubert’s ears about a meeting to take place between Duke Aegir and a man Hubert only knew as “Myson.” Hubert knew that name only from hush whispers overhead between Arvid and Heidrun. He had nothing other than a name. All the more reason to eavesdrop on their meeting.

Duke Aegir’s office lay in the ministerial wing of the palace, along with the Emperor’s and Arvid von Vestra’s own offices. It wouldn’t be too suspicious for Hubert to be seen in that area of the palace. His father worked there after all. However, for a stealth mission, he would prefer to not be seen.

There were few servant’s corridors in this area of the palace on account of the sensitive information exchanged. Hubert would have to take a different tack. Hubert scouted the outside wall shared with Aegir’s office. Aegir’s open window faced the palace gardens, letting the warm spring air fill its chambers.

An amateur mistake.

Aegir’s office sat on the second story, the high window close to the pitched roof. Hubert could listen from there, his only obstacle would be the guards in the battlements. The roof was hardly an ideal hiding spot, but if Hubert wore dark clothes and kept close to the surface, he could go undetected.

Getting to the roof was simple enough. He only had to use a roof window set into one of the guest rooms to climb out onto the roof. Hubert slowly eased down the sharp slope. If he took one misstep, it would be all too easy to fall off. He used the stone ornamentation on the roof’s edge as a foothold. He walked on the backs of eagles, hands braced against stone. He moved slowly, watching each step, making sure no sound would give him away.

He kept his eyes and ears alert for any changes. His blood ran cold every time he looked down. Despite that, he watched the courtyard below intently, monitoring for anyone the might spot him. Even so, he kept his body flush against the roof. If he stayed still, he hoped to blend in.

Hubert reached Duke Aegir’s open window. He peered over the side one last time, checking to see that the window was still open. The shutters beckoned him like open arms. Hubert pulled himself back, crouching low over the stone eagle jutting out above Duke Aegir’s office. Hubert ignored the aching in his knees and thighs. Pain meant nothing in the face of opportunity.

He strained his ears over the pounding of his heart.

‘...to finally accept my invitation for tea,” Duke Aegir’s familiar, shrill voice spoke.

“It seems you do not understand the meaning of ‘no,’” someone said curtly.

Hubert didn’t recognize the second party, Myson, he assumed. Every word was clipped, as if even speaking were a waste of their time. It reminded Hubert of his father.

Duke Aegir barreled onward, much like his foolhardy son. “I have a right to know what is happening in my empire!”

A put upon sigh. “You far overestimate your importance.”

The Duke squawked indignantly. “I am the Prime Minister!”

“Of Adrestia, yes.” 

Myson spoke as if Aegir’s title bore little importance. He spoke as if Adrestia itself held no meaning.

Stranger still, the Duke did not call Myson on his lack of patriotism. “Regardless, I ask what you are doing with the princess.”

Hubert leaned in, his chest filling with lightning.

“That is not for you to know. That was the deal you made.” The sharp edge of Myson’s tongue stung Hubert’s ears.

“The girl grows sicker by the day! At this rate she will not last into Blue Sea Moon!”

Hubert fought the breath in his lungs, struggling to keep his breath even. Logically, he already knew the truth of Duke Aegir’s words. Anyone who had seen the rate of Adelaide’s decline could make the same conclusion. But to hear it spoken aloud so plainly turned his veins to ice.

“That is not our concern.”

And then that ice began to boil.

“There are whispers! People think  _ I _ am responsible for her condition!”

These men spoke of Adelaide like an  _ object. _ They cared naught for her plight or the girl she had once been, but only for what she offered them. 

“And what? You are surprised they managed to come to the right conclusion?”

Duke Aegir sputtered, grappling for words. “I am not responsible for her illness!”

“No. You simply handed her over to us,” Myson said simply, with no hint of remorse.

Neither man spoke. An impenetrable silence stretched between them. The only sound Hubert heard was his own heartbeat, ringing in his ears.

“What will you do when the princess is no longer of use?” Duke Aegir finally asked.

“We will fetch the little one from Fhirdiad,” Myson replied dismissively, without pause.

Hubert nearly fell off his perch. Little one? Did they mean…?

“Do you mean Edelgard?”

“Of course,” Myson scoffed. “She will be the only one left with a crest.” Myson paused. “Well, the only sane one, anyway.”

Hubert covered his mouth, biting down on his knuckle to keep from screaming. It had been over a  _ year _ since Hubert heard anything of Edelgard. In his darkest moments, Hubert had feared… But finally he could put those worries to rest. After all this time, Hubert finally knew where to go.

But so did Edelgard’s enemies.

That night, he spread his map over the floor of his bedroom. A cloth sack stuffed with jerky and stale bread rested at his side. Stolen coins clinked in his pockets. Over Fhirdiad, he inked a single red star.

* * *

Adelaide cupped a single red carnation in her palms, wind tousling her unkempt white hair. For the first time in months, warm sunlight caressed her ashen skin. It reawakened her spirit, bringing back the warm, natural glow that Hubert had thought lost. She was clothed only in a simple cotton dress, hardly befitting a girl of her station. But Adelaide no longer possessed the energy to struggle with buttons, and ribbons, and skirts. Even with the help of her attendants.

She turned in her chair, looking to Hubert over her shoulder. “Thank you for this,” she whispered, voice barely a breath on the wind. “I cannot remember the last time I saw the sun.”

Hubert could. It had been almost five months ago, during Guardian Moon. Hubert had supported Adelaide’s shoulders as she took shaky steps into the garden for Saint Seiros Day. Hubert had stood over her while she knelt to pray, then helped her struggle back to a stand. As soon as they returned, Adelaide immediately collapsed into bed to rest.

Hubert thought it better he kept that to himself.

“It is a lovely day,” he supplied instead.

That much was true. The blue sky stretched out endlessly over Enbarr, perfect white, fluffy clouds prancing across the horizon like Bergliez sheep. Sunlight spilled over the whole of the city, paving the streets a brilliant gold. In the palace gardens, the sun illuminated the carnations blooming between Adelaide’s hands. It turned Adelaide’s hair a blinding white, snow lingering long after winter’s end.

“If you would allow me…” Hubert’s grip tightened on the back of Adelaide’s chair. “I have one last thing to show you.”

Adelaide’s gray eyes brightened, the sunrise after a storm. “How could I possibly deny you?”

Hubert stepped forward, pushing the wheeled chair down the garden path. It was a simple chair stolen from the kitchens, with cart wheels affixed to the legs. It had been easy to bribe a carpenter into his service when Hubert explained it was for the ailing princess. The old man had modified the chair free of charge. Hubert hadn’t even needed to lie.

The chair was no feat of Adrestian engineering. It was an uneven, rickety thing. One of the wheels stuck every other turn and the wood creaked as it moved. Adelaide couldn’t use it on her own, not that the palace was built for such a thing anyway. But it was useful here, allowing her and Hubert to tour the gardens once more.

The path was treacherous; the walking paths had been laid with large, ornamental cobblestone. The groundskeepers had designed them for people on two legs, not wheels. Hubert took care to avoid the harsher stones, using his own (meager) strength to ease Adelaide’s ride. Even so, she gripped tightly to the seat.

They veered off the stone walkway, onto the well-trodden dirt path leading to the training grounds. It took more effort to push her here, the chair’s wheels digging into the ground. Hubert pressed on, until they passed through the archway into the enclosure.

A training dummy already stood straight ahead, watching them with blank eyes. Hubert pulled Adelaide to a stop, just off the side of the practice area.

“What could you possibly have to show me here?” Adelaide eyed him with perplexed amusement as Hubert walked around to her front. “You know I am not one for combat.”

“I suppose you’ll just have to watch then,” Hubert said flatly.

He took his place in the center of the sparring area. Adelaide sat facing him. She leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands. Piercing green eyes locked on the dummy and the rest of the world fell away.

Hubert closed his eyes, clasped his hands. In his mind, he pictured his target ten feet ahead. The next few seconds played out in his mind. The sigil, drawn in the air with careful hands. Words of arcane power, spoken in hushed tones. Reaching, grasping the will inside him and making it real.

Adelaide covered her mouth with her hand as she realized what Hubert set out to do. 

He traced the sigil. 

Fire. The spark of life that humanity stole from the gods. It burned in his heart, too. That searing anger that turned all he was to ash.

He thrust his hand through the emblem.

He had been razed through fire and brimstone and remade himself from the ashes. He would do it again. As many times as it took.

He would turn the whole world to ash for Edelgard.

A gout of flame burst from Hubert’s fingertips. It crashed into the dummy with the force of a tidal wave. Its straw caught fire instantly, the fire spreading across its surface until an inferno swallowed its entire figure. Dark clouds of smoke billowed up, into the open blue sky overhead.

Adelaide gasped, hands flying to her mouth.

Hubert opened his eyes with a sharp breath, searing heat burning his skin. Wood and straw darkened before his eyes. In a fire of his own will, they darkened and turned to ash. Power burned at his fingertips, that which he had lacked all these years.

Finally he held the power to see Edelgard’s will to fruition.

He turned to Adelaide, raging inferno at his back. The fire painted Adelaide in orange light. If Hubert unfocused his eyes, she was the russet haired girl from his memory once more. Flames shimmered in her gaze, hands still clasped over her mouth.

“So,” Hubert panted. He brushed sweat slick hair from his eyes. “What do you think?”

Adelaide remained silent. For a long moment, only the crackled of the fire could be heard over their breathing.

“Hubert… I…” she breathed. “Hubert…!”

She pushed herself to a stand, on wobbly, untrained legs. She stepped towards him, much too fast. Her legs buckled under her own weight.

“Lady Adelaide!”

Hubert rushed to her in two strides, arms reaching to catch her. She reached back, grabbing around his shoulders. Hubert pulled her into his chest in an attempt to brace her fall, and they both collapsed to their knees.

The hard dirt dug into his bony knees, as they knelt on the training grounds. Adelaide’s arms clung tightly to Hubert’s shoulders, her face ducked into his collar bone. She slumped against him, most of her weight hanging on his neck. She barely weighed anything at all, even for Hubert.

Hubert braced his hands on Adelaide’s sides, pushing gently in an attempt to separate them. But Adelaide’s hands fisted in the back on his shirt and she held on with all her waning strength. Hubert relented, simply resting his hands below her ribcage.

“Lady Adelaide.” Hubert kept his voice damnably even. “Are you alright?”

Adelaide pressed her face deeper into the divot of his collarbone, almost painfully. Over the crackle of the dying fire, Adelaide muffled wet gasps in Hubert’s shirt. Her frail ribs shook between Hubert’s hands, lungs beating furiously against their cage.

“You have grown…” Adelaide rasped into his collarbone “... so strong, Hubert.”

“I.” Hubert struggled to find words. “It is only a simple fire spell.”

Adelaide continued, as if Hubert hadn’t spoken at all. “I am so…  _ relieved.” _

Adelaide sunk into Hubert with the weight she had carried all these long months. “I have spent so very long… wondering what will become of you… once I am gone.”

Adelaide had watched the world turn without her, as every day her strength waned. Fall had turned to winter, had turned to spring, had turned to summer; Adelaide realized this would be her last turn of the seasons.

Hubert’s hands trembled on Adelaide’s waist. If he focused he could count her ribs. “You need not worry about me.”

“I have tried… so very hard to stay strong.” Adelaide’s gasps turned to tears, her whole body trembling in Hubert’s hands. “But I am still afraid.”

What was Hubert to say to that? Adelaide had every reason to be afraid. As she stared into the long dark, and contemplated the future stolen from her hands, who wouldn’t be afraid? Hubert bit his cheek to stay his words.

“Not just of what awaits me hereafter.” Adelaide choked on her words. “But of what will become of you, and all those I love.”

The fire still burned, its heat searing Hubert’s skin. Sweat formed on his brow and beneath his palms holding Adelaide tight. Her bones rattled between his hands, so strongly he feared she would shake apart in his grasp. She would slip through his sweat-slick fingers like the echoes of a childhood he’d tried to hold onto.

When he opened his hands, all that would be left was ash.

“Lady Adelaide,” Hubert gasped. “Do not spare a thought for me. I don’t  _ need _ it.”

Of all the people Adelaide would leave behind, what right did Hubert have to occupy her thoughts?

“You may not need it.” Adelaide clung to Hubert’s neck with all her weight, slumped against his chest. “But I offer it all the same.”

Adelaide pulled back, finally, just enough to turn up her face and meet Hubert’s gaze. The embers of sputtered coals sparked in her eyes, coughing plumes of dark ash, but burning all the same. Tears clung to her lashes and smeared down her cheeks, flickering orange in the light.

“There are so many dreams… I wished to see fulfilled” The flames in her eyes faltered and darkened. “I wanted… to travel… and see the world…”

Adelaide leaned back, turning her gaze upward. She pitched backward, nearly falling out of Hubert’s lap. He scrambled to grab her, bracing one hand between her shoulder blades. It managed to keep her upright, even as her head lolled back to face the open expanse of sky.

“But it seems… I am going to die without ever leaving the city I was born…”

Hubert wanted to grab Adelaide by the shoulders and tell her not to speak that way. What hope did they have if she had already resigned herself to death? But Hubert was a realist. Refusing to say the words and acknowledge Adelaide’s future for what it was will not change her fate.

Hope was the most exquisite torture.

“I wanted…” Adelaide’s head lolled forward, as she willed her unfocused gaze to meet Hubert’s eyes. “To see my sister again.”

Hubert wanted that too, so badly it ached. The promise of Edelgard, of reuniting with her once more pushed him onward. It drove him to become stronger, sparked the fire in his veins. He forged himself through fire and brimstone, into a weapon that could craft that future with his own hands.

“I want to see Lady Edelgard, too. For both of us.”

“I know.” Adelaide’s lips curled into a trembling smile. “You  _ will _ see her again. I know it. You are… strong enough, now.”

She slumped once more into Hubert’s chest. He kept his hand on her back, letting her fall into the safety of his arms.

“And you will grow stronger…” Adelaide stared into his eyes, tears glimmering like stars. “I know you will keep… the both of you… safe…”

The fire began to die, the training dummy little more than a pile of darkened ash. The fading light cast harsh shadows over Adelaide’s face. They darkened the gaunt cut of her cheekbones and the hollows of her eyes. Hubert remembered her cheeks, flush with laughter, skin glowing with the vigor of youth.

Now, she lay in Hubert’s arms, her ashen skin stretched over brittle bone. The knobs of her spine dug into the hand at her back. The palm on her waist felt the divot of each rib. Her shadowed eyes pierced him, like Caleb’s carrion-picked face and Seiros’ empty stare. Already, Adelaide was little more than a corpse.

“Lady Adelaide,  _ please,” _ Hubert begged. “Tell me what they have  _ done _ to you.”

“I  _ told _ you,” Adelaide gasped into Hubert’s shoulder. “Not to ask me again—”

“There may yet be a cure. A way to reverse the damage they’ve done…” Hubert grasped at straws with his sweat-slick hands.

“There is no  _ cure,  _ Hubert. There is nothing you can do for me.” Adelaide spoke with such finality, like the slam of an open door.

“I can’t just accept that!”

“You  _ must. _ Please. For my sake, as well as yours.” Adelaide’s broken, unkempt nails dug into Hubert’s shoulders. “You have no  _ idea _ the forces that conspire against us.”

“Then tell me!” Hubert screamed.

So many secrets, kept by his ally as well as his enemy. They all circled some great unknowable force: the cause of all this misery, of their stolen childhoods. Until now, Hubert’s only weapon had been information, but no one would yield this secret. He was playing chess, but the enemy’s moves were unknown.

How could he serve Lady Edelgard with only half the pieces on the board?

“What good does it serve me by keeping me in the dark?” Hubert yelled. “You are not protecting me by keeping secrets!”

Adelaide shook her head, just as she had before. “You can only say that  _ because _ you are ignorant.” Adelaide shut her eyes. “If you and my sister never learn the truth… that is the best protection I can provide.”

“When you are gone, they will  _ come _ for Lady Edelgard!” Hubert’s hand clenched on her ribs, so tightly her glass bones threatened to shatter. “How can I protect her against an unknown enemy?”

Adelaide let out a long, slow breath. For a moment, the only sound was the crackle of a dying flame. She opened her eyes, the flash of a steel blade. For the first time in months Hubert bore witness to her ironclad resolve. For a moment, he caught a glimpse of the Emperor she would have been.

“If they come for Edelgard,” Adelaide breathed, voice unnaturally even. “Then there is  _ nothing _ you can do.”

The flames in Hubert’s blood turned to ice.

The fire died, only smouldering ash and a cloud of smoke remained. Adelaide curled wordlessly against Hubert’s chest, all the energy fading from her. No words came to Hubert’s mind, no counter argument or rebuttal. How could he, when he did not even know what Adelaide feared?

Hubert held Adelaide, hands encircling her waist. He watched the plume of dark smoke, the remains of his will ascending to the heavens. It billowed up, a single dark cloud against the perfect sky.

He would not let that future come to pass.

* * *

They sat like that in an empty courtyard until the smoke died. Adelaide’s head rested on Hubert’s shoulder, skin cracking beneath dried tears. In the warmth of the dying fire, Hubert’s heart thrumming beneath her ear, Adelaide could almost fall asleep. Hubert’s embrace held the comfort of those summer afternoons at Edelgard’s side. Adelaide had thought those days would go on forever.

When she opened her eyes, she was fourteen again, struggling to hold onto this specter of a life.

“I grow weary,” Adelaide murmured into Hubert’s collarbone.

He looked down at her, at the frail face pressed into his shoulder. “Then we best return you to your chambers.”

Adelaide nodded blankly. Hubert stood, then lifted Adelaide up, grabbing her beneath the shoulders. Slowly, she staggered back to the chair. Hubert supported almost her full weight, until she crashed back down into her seat. The wood frame creaked in protest under Adelaide’s weight. Hubert ignored it. The contraption only needed to last one more ride.

He took up his place behind Adelaide and pushed. Together they trekked back to the main palace in silence. The onset of dusk cast an orange glow over the gardens, long shadows stretching to draw Adelaide down.

For her part, the princess simply sat in silence, eyes closed. She lay perfectly still, even as Hubert pushed her over the rough-hewn stone path. If not for the steady rise and fall of her chest, Hubert would fear she had passed. Sparrows sang their goodbyes as they passed into the interior of the palace. Adelaide opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder. As the door closed, she caught one last glimpse of the garden awash with the evening sun.

She turned back and closed her eyes.

When they reached the stairs leading to the second level, Hubert had to carry her, just as he had on their way down. He walked around to her front, bending so they were eye level.

“Lady Adelaide, if I may?”

She nodded wordlessly. Hubert wrapped one arm under Adelaide’s back, the other under her knees. He straightened and Adelaide settled easily into his grasp. Her illness had stripped away all the fat and muscle that had made her vibrant. Left with only flesh and bone, she weighed barely anything.

Even Hubert, who had never trained his strength, easily carried her to her chambers. The evening guard, Bastian, stood at the door and nodded to Hubert as he passed. Hubert brushed past him, heading for Adelaide’s open door.

Inside laid all the finery one would expect of the princess. Its design was similar to Elric’s room, which sat untouched ever since the prince had moved to Hrym. A lush, four poster bed draped in red silk stood at the room’s center atop polished ashwood floors.

Hints of Adelaide poked through the royal posturing, like poppies blooming on the face of a cliff. Portraits of flowers adorned the walls; a sunset orange Brigidian orchid hung above her vanity, a Leicesterian iris beside the window, and a blood-red Adrestian carnation rested prominently over her pillow.

Gently, Hubert laid her beneath that flower, on the throne of fine down pillows she used to keep herself upright. Adelaide sunk back, unfocused eyes following Hubert. Hubert knelt to unfasten Adelaide’s shoes, pulling them off, and tucking her feet beneath the covers. He pulled the sheets up, over Adelaide’s bent knee, letting them settle around her waist.

“Are you comfortable?” Hubert asked.

From his kneeling position he had to look up to meet her eyes. They were an unfocused, hazy gray, holding a dark well of regret threatening to drag him under. He tore himself away, refusing to drown himself in remorse.

“If that will be all, then I must leave.” He braced himself, beginning to stand.

Adelaide grabbed his wrist, her hand striking with more speed than he thought remained in her body. “Stay?”

Hubert’s eyes locked on her, on all that regret turned melancholy plea. His mouth went dry, as the full force of Adelaide’s sorrow crashed over him like a wave. He knew hopelessness well, knew the despair of watching his Empire fall, the crushing weight of a thousand dreams turned to ash.

But Adelaide’s sorrow was a different beast in its entirety. Her birthright had been ripped from her hands and she had endured unspeakable torture so her siblings could be free. She had watched the sun set on her beautiful Empire, knowing she would not live to see the sunrise.

Hubert grappled for words. “I… I can’t. That would be improper.”

Adelaide’s hand squeezed, the beat of a butterfly’s wing against Hubert’s pulse. “Please?” Her mouth curled into a fragile smile. “I do not wish to be alone.”

How could Hubert deny his lady’s sister? How could he deny a dying girl such a simple request?

Hubert slowly slipped his hand through Adelaide’s grasp, just enough to meet her palm with his, to wrap his long, spindly fingers around her own and  _ squeeze. _

“Whatever you require shall be yours,” Hubert promised.

Adelaide’s smile strengthened. Whatever punishment Hubert may face would be worth it for that one smile. She sank back, deeper into her nest of pillows, hand falling limply in Hubert’s grasp. She closed her eyes, face upturned.

“Will you tell me about my sister?”

Hubert furrowed his brow. “I’m… not sure I understand. I haven’t seen Lady Edelgard since she fled the Empire. I am afraid I know no more than you.”

“I know,” Adelaide hummed. “But it has been so long. I want to make sure… I remember her properly.”  _ Before I die. _

A heavy silence filled the air. “I see.” Hubert swallowed thickly. “She was only nine when we last saw her. She has likely grown in our absence.”

Hubert had been promised to Edelgard since he was six. He had spent over half his life in her service. That she grew somewhere beyond his sight, that he was not  _ there _ for her ached in his very bones.

“But I will tell you what I remember.”

So he did. Hubert spoke of brown hair glowing gold on the pier and eyes set in amethyst, sparkling with determination. He told tales of adventure, wooden swords wielded like Seiros’s blade, and justice sought at all costs. He dreamt of a girl that loved sweet buns, Hresvelgion Whiskers, but more than anything her friends. She loved her mother, Elric, Ferdinand, and, of course, Adelaide.

“She thought very highly of you.” As the night grew long, Hubert leaned against the side of Adelaide’s bed, propping himself on the mattress with one arm. “Don’t tell anyone, but I think you were her favorite sibling.”

Adelaide leaned back against the headboard, head tilted down to meet Hubert’s gaze. “Hm… I am not so sure.” She smiled with all the warmth of the sun, even in the dark of night. “Elric spoiled her rotten.”

Adelaide’s smile cracked the skin around her eyes. “Do you remember when he recruited Edelgard into stealing a whole tray of pastries from the Seiros Day banquet?”

“Of course I remember, who do you think Edelgard had do the stealing?”

Adelaide threw her head back and laughed, deep and full. Hubert couldn’t help but smile at the lovely sound. It was a joy to simply see Adelaide happy. She laughed for a long while, until it left her gasping for breath.

“Oh, it has been so long since I thought of them and laughed!” Adelaide wiped her eyes. “Thank you, Hubert, for giving me something to laugh about.”

Hubert’s smile faded, as the memories of better days slipped from his grasp. All the reminiscence in the world would not change their doomed present.

“Do you…” Hubert took a steadying breath. “Do you know what has become of Lord Elric?”

Adelaide’s laughter died, the smile in her eyes turning somber. “Not… not for certain.” Her gaze fell to her hands. “They speak of him. Those who have…” Adelaide gestured vaguely to herself. “I believe he still lives.”

Hubert leaned forward, eyes like javelins of light, piercing the sky. This was the closest Adelaide had ever come to speaking about her captors or what she had suffered.

“What do they say?”

Adelaide furrowed her brow, eyes clouding as she searched the reserves of her memory. “It is… difficult… to remember.”

“Do you think he’s truly in Hrym?”

“That I… I do not know. It would certainly…” Adelaide glanced briefly to Hubert, seemingly remembering his presence. “Well.” She pressed her lips into a thin line.

Hubert moved into her line of sight, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Tell me.”

Adelaide sighed, knotting her fingers together. “You are a smart man. I am sure you have made the same connections I have.”

“I want to hear it from you.”

“The rebellion that started this mess, that Elric would be sent there  _ now…” _ Adelaide paused, biting her lower lip. “And that is where… they found Elric and…”

“My brother.”

Adelaide nodded. “There is something happening in Hrym.”

Hubert sighed. “You’re right, I suspected as much.”

“And yet you made me say it anyway, you fiend,” Adelaide teased, voice light and airy.

Hubert smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. If only he had the resources to investigate Hrym. He did not have any foothold in his father’s spy network, much as he tried. He barely held the resources to keep abreast of the goings on in _ Enbarr,  _ much less the whole of the Empire. Every scrap of information he gleaned was won secondhand, always putting him a step behind the enemy. He had no troops, no spies to deploy. All he had were a handful of paid-off servants and his own meager skills.

“If only I had a single spy at my disposal,” Hubert lamented. “I could…”

“Hubert.” Adelaide’s voice cut through his thoughts. “It is not your fault that you are not in charge of a  _ spy network _ at thirteen.”

“But if I could only  _ do _ something…”

“What do you think it was Caleb was trying to do?” Adelaide asked pointedly. “Why do you think they killed him for it?”

Hubert fell into silence. He had long suspected that those responsible for the Empire’s corruption also had a hand in Caleb’s death. How and for what exact reason remained a mystery. He had grappled with those phantoms ceaselessly since Caleb’s death. To hear it spoken so plainly chilled his veins.

“If it’s to protect Lady Edelgard…”

“You may think death is a risk worth taking. But how has Caleb’s death served us?” Adelaide’s voice roared with a lightning strike of indignation. “How has his death done anything but destroy our country?

“Imagine the life we might have lived had our brothers come  _ home.” _ Adelaide’s eyes shone with tears like stars.

For a moment, Hubert imagined a world where Caleb had returned. Loyal, reverent Caleb, who would never have stood for their father’s betrayal. Even if the events that followed remained, Caleb would have had the power to fight back. Hubert would have had one ally in his battle against the march of time.

Hubert closed his eyes. “They won’t,” he spat. “They are never coming home.”

“I know that,” Adelaide sighed. “But the next time you consider throwing your life away,  _ remember.” _

All the lessons from his childhood echoed in his head. He was to throw down his life only as a last resort. Failing that he was to  _ survive. _ Had Elric understood what they faced when they left for Hrym? Had it been worth risking their lives? Caleb had died and left his Empire to fall.

Caleb would have paid any price for Elric’s life, even the Empire’s soul.

Hubert laid his head on the edge of Adelaide’s bed, pillowed on his arms. “To the abyss with the Empire.”

Adelaide jumped with a start. “Hubert!”

“I care not for its duplicitous nobles, or the snakes slithering in its shadows.” Hubert closed his eyes. “All the gold and jewels in Adrestia cannot be worth your suffering.”

Slowly, Adelaide’s eyes softened, as the worry lines etched into Hubert’s young face. She curled a pale hand over his head, skeletal fingers threading through his hair. Those deep lines eased, ever so slightly.

“And what of my people?”

“How can you still call them yours when they have never lifted a finger in your aid? When they cannot even see the Prime Minister’s treachery?”

Adelaide could go on about the plights of commoners, how it was hardly their responsibility to care for a noble girl in a gilded palace. Commoners were fortunate if they could read and write. Adelaide hardly expected them to keep abreast of political affairs. That was  _ her _ responsibility. Or at least it had been, until Duke Aegir stole it from her.

But Adelaide grew weary. She understood Hubert’s anger for what it was: the pleas of a boy betrayed by the world.

“You said you wanted to travel the world. Then let’s simply  _ go.” _

Adelaide gently stroked Hubert’s hair. “Leave Enbarr?”

“Enbarr, Adrestia,  _ F _ _ ódlan!”  _ Hubert snapped, eyes pinched closed. “Let us leave all of this behind.”

It was a bold dream. Impossible, when Adelaide could barely walk. “Where will we go?” Adelaide hummed,

“Fhirdiad,” Hubert said resolutely. “We’ll find Lady Edelgard and then…” He grasped for any of his geography lessons. “We’ll cross the border into Sreng.”

“Do they have flowers in Sreng?”

“I will plant a whole garden for you and Lady Edelgard,” Hubert promised. “We’ll find somewhere peaceful, near the sea. Somewhere they’ll never find us.

Adelaide smiled, despite herself. The three of them, bundled warmly against the cold northern wind, two princesses masquerading as commoners. But they would be together for the rest of their days.

“I would like that very much,” she sighed, hand now resting limply over the back of Hubert’s neck.

“We’ll leave… all this behind,” Hubert murmured, eyes growing heavy.

“It sounds lovely. We will prepare first thing in the morning.”

Hubert nodded, cheek scratching against the crimson bedspread. He blinked, and caught sight of Adelaide’s smile. It burned into the back of his eyelids, so that he would remember it always. He dreamed of warm summer winds, brown hair and adventure, and red carnations blooming in a sleepy village by the sea.

When he came back to consciousness, he first became aware of the crick in his neck. His head still lay on his arms, cheek pressed into Adrestian red silk. He pushed himself up with a groan, rubbing the sore spot in his shoulders. He opened his eyes to the white sunlight streaming through the window.

Daybreak cut over the ashwood floorboards and up Adelaide’s bed. Light spilled over an empty nest of pillows in an empty bed.

Hubert burst out of the royal chambers and grabbed the first servant he saw. “Where is she?”

The poor maid stared at him with panicked eyes. “Lord Vestra, I don’t…”

Hubert shook her by the shoulders. “Lady Adelaide! Where is she?”

“I, I don’t know!” she shouted.

“Hubert!” A familiar clipped voice boomed from down the hall.

Hubert’s eyes snapped to his father’s familiar visage, glowing with primal fury. Arvid’s heels clicked on the polished floor, hands folded behind his back.

“Let the poor girl go,” Arvid ordered.

Hubert released his hands from the maid’s shoulders. They slowly fell back to his side, gaze burning into his father’s cheek the whole time.

Arvid waved the maid onward. “Return to your duties.”

The maid bowed. “At once, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Arvid met his son’s piercing gaze. “Now, what was so urgent you thought it necessary to assault some poor maid?”

“What have you done with Lady Adelaide?” Hubert growled.

Arvid stared down his nose at Hubert, back ramrod straight. Hubert felt little more than a rabbit, staring in the eyes of a raptor. A long silence passed, tension swelling between them. Hubert curled his fingers back, touching the edge of the dagger in his sleeve. He couldn’t kill his father, that he knew. But for a moment he let himself imagine, pulling out his knife and slicing the inside of Arvid’s thigh.

“In light of the princess’s worsening condition, she has been sent to Hevring for treatment,” Arvid finally answered.

The fire within Hubert’s heart raged, begging to be let loose. Flames curled around his fingertips unbidden. Every muscle in Hubert’s body tensed as he saw nothing but an inferno consuming all in its path. How he yearned to let that fire free, to set the whole of the palace ablaze until only rubble remained.

“Liar!” Hubert snarled, fingers twitching at his sides.

Arvid’s eyes flashed like fire-hardened steel. The maw of his hand darted, fingers wrapping around Hubert’s wrist like an eagle’s talons. He wrenched Hubert’s arm forward, holding it up to the light. Fire danced between Hubert’s curled fingers, swelling and dying with each breath.

“Control yourself!” Arvid snapped with teeth like daggers.

Hubert didn’t  _ want _ to control himself. He wanted to set himself aflame, take his father and everyone else in this damned palace with him. He wanted to  _ burn. _

The skin on his hands blistered.

_ Remember. _

Adelaide’s words from the previous night branded themselves on his soul. He could raze the palace to the ground, but what of the people left with the ashes? What of Lady Edelgard?

Hubert breathed deep, in through his nose, focusing on the swell of his lungs. He held it a moment, then let it loose and started over. He had to hold on, he had to  _ survive. _ Even if they took everything else away, made him watch his world crumble, he still had Lady Edelgard. He had to survive for her.

Slowly, the fire in his hands died, leaving only its scars behind.

“I am  _ calm.”  _ Hubert wrenched his burnt hand from his father’s grasp. “And  _ you _ are still a liar.”

Hubert didn’t wait for a response. Instead, he turned on his heel and stalked off, heading for the Vestra estate. In the sanctuary of his room, he rolled out his map one last time. He had spent hours hunched over this chart, tracing the routes through Adrestia. He zeroed in on the dark, red star over Fhirdiad. Everything else fell away.

With Adelaide gone, he was no longer bound to Enbarr.

Three days later, Hubert snuck onto a merchant convoy headed for Merceus. He curled in the bed of a wagon, jostled by every rough stone in its path. He had nothing to his name, save for his map, a sack of jerky, and the coins in his pocket. But every creak of the wagon, every hoofbeat against well-trodden stone, brought him one step closer to Edelgard.


	10. Chapter 10

“Scram, kid!”

The merchant unceremoniously tossed Hubert out of the cart by the scruff of his neck. Hubert hit the dirt face first, cheek scratching on the hard ground. Hubert scrambled for his sack of rations, quickly shoving any spilled food back in the bag.

The merchant shook his head. “Damn street rats.” He climbed back in the cart and signaled for the driver to carry on.

Hubert pulled his bag to his chest, quickly rolling out from underfoot as the horses started moving again. He barely managed to escape getting kicked in the head by an errant hoof. He fell onto his back at the side of the path, panting heavily. He took a moment to catch his breath, staring at the wide expanse of blue sky above.

Even outside of Enbarr, it looked the same.

Hubert sat up, leaning on his knees. He shielded his eyes from the sun and squinted at the merchant caravan fading in the distance. Hubert spared a moment to take in his surroundings. It had been a few days since they’d left Enbarr, most of them spent staring at the same four wood crates. Hubert had only snuck outside for quick breaks to relieve himself. Other than that, he had curled between a crate and a burlap sack of grain as the cart rattled ceaselessly onward.

He found himself at the top of a rocky hill, dry grass lining the well-trod merchant’s path. To the east, a spread of mountains pierced the sky, to the west a river. Small groups of trees stuck out from the ground like spines. The only color was pasqueflowers poking out from between the brambles.

Hubert wracked his brain for all the geography lessons his father had forced him to attend. Terrain like this wasn’t ideal for setting camp. The mountain could provide cover, but could be used to the enemy’s advantage if they took the high ground. However, the dry ground made excellent conditions for a fire. That could be solved by setting up a controlled burn before making camp, or used to the enemy’s disadvantage.

Hubert shook his head. Military tactics were of little use to him here. Identifying where exactly he  _ was _ took precedence. Taking in the dry vegetation, the rocky hills, and the amount of time they’d traveled, Hubert would put himself somewhere between the Morgaine Ravine and Fort Merceus.

The hot midday sun set fire to Hubert’s shirt, burning the skin on the back of his neck. No doubt there were imperial scouts looking for him now. Best to keep moving.

Hubert stood, brushing himself off. It was hardly enough to rid himself of three days of sweat. At least outside the capital, looking like a farmhand would do well to keep his cover. Hubert shouldered his bag and started down the path on his feet. He hoped to come to a town soon enough or another caravan he could hitch a ride with.

He happened upon a small village just before sundown. It sat, cradled between two mountains. Fields of carrots and turnips stretched along the riverbank long before he found the town proper. When Hubert crested the hill and found a cluster of buildings nestled in the valley, his shoulders sank. He had been dreading the prospect of bedding down under the open sky.

His feet ached from his long walk, muscles tense from too many days crammed in the back of a wagon. His neck was hot to the touch and his clothes clung to him with sweat. A fine layer of dirt covered his skin, his teeth gritty and unclean. If he came to the palace looking as he did, he would promptly be thrown out, son of Vestra or no.

He carried on, walking up to a small building on the outskirts of town. Its old, weatherbeaten sign read  _ The Full Flask. _ The door creaked as he hobbled through, giving way to a small traveler’s inn. An older woman, full-figured with graying hair stood behind the bar, serving a handful of patrons.

All the other customers were much older, men over three times Hubert’s age. They looked similarly bedraggled, clothes dirt smudged and hair slicked with sweat. They bore the flush of a hard day’s work, now settled in for an evening drink. As Hubert entered, all eyes turned to the door and stayed on the stranger encroaching on their small town. With stiff shoulders and wary eyes, Hubert took a seat at the bar.

He hissed as his feet lifted off the ground. As soon as he sat, he realized just how much his feet hurt during the hike here. Blisters pulsed between his toes, on skin that had never before seen a day of hardship. His feet throbbed with the beat of his heart. He leaned down to rub at his ankles, but for every second of relief, the pain only returned tenfold. He bit his tongue, and glanced at the bottles lining the countertop.

Hubert’s only experience with taverns were those located in Enbarr. There was the lush inn located just outside Grenadine Square. It overlooked the ocean, fine magic lit lanterns hanging overhead. They served the finest wines in the Empire; Duke Aegir was known to hold his more social meetings in its private rooms. But with such important clientele came heightened security. No matter how Hubert tried, he never managed to sneak in.

Hubert had far better luck with the seedier establishments in Enbarr’s lower quarter. There he was more likely to get a knife in his gut. But the barkeep let you in as long as you could see over the bar. Finding commoners willing to do anything for some coin and warm food was easy.

Sitting at this tiny bar in the middle of Adrestia, Hubert felt less a spy and more a target.

“What can I get ya?” the barkeep, watching Hubert with a discerning eye. “Name’s Mechtilde.”

Hubert thought of the small number of coins in his bag. He didn’t have much money, yet he needed to stretch it all the way to Fhirdiad. He’d doubtless have to resort to stealing to get by. He had survived on jerky and stale bread the past three days. His body ached for a warm meal and cool water, a warm bed, and clean clothes.

But he was on a mission and he couldn’t afford luxuries.

“Just… water, please,” Hubert croaked.

Mechtilde gave him a strange look, but fetched him a glass of water from the pail. Hubert placed a coin on the counter before grabbing it with both hands. He didn’t even pause to test it for poison, so parched. His body yearned to down the whole glass, but he stopped himself. He pulled his waterskin from his pack and transferred the rest. Who knew when he’d have access to clean water again? Better to save some for later.

Mechtilde kept an eagle eye on him, on this strange, gaunt boy that stalked into her home. “Ya look like you’ve had a long walk.” she asked, idly wiping down the bar.

Hubert glanced at her. The less he revealed about himself the better, but it wouldn’t do to be suspicious.

“You could say that. I’m a couple days out from Rusalka.”

“All on your own?”

Hubert shook his head. “I hitched a ride with a merchant caravan, but we parted ways at the road to Aegir.”

Mechtilde looked Hubert up and down, eyes hesitating on his gaunt cheekbones and the burns wrapped around her fingers. Hubert met her gaze with his own, eyes far too intelligent for his years.

“You lookin’ for work?” she asked. “There’s always work t’ be done out ‘n the fields.”

Hubert instinctively bristled at the implication that he was being lumped in with these _commoners,_ with mere fieldhands and laborers. He took a breath, reminding himself that it was by design. The more he blended in with the common folk, the less likely he was to be scouted by his father’s men.

“No, I’m just passing through on my way to Merceus,” Hubert said politely.

Mechtilde watched him again, hands on her hips. “Well, th’ good news ‘s that you’re not far off.”

“From Merceus?”

Mechtilde nodded. “Bad news ‘s I doubt you’ll make it before nightfall.”

Hubert feared as much. No doubt his father had sent scouting parties out as soon as he noted Hubert’s absence. A messenger bird could reach Fort Merceus in a day. The soldiers at the stronghold were likely already on the lookout for him. With the scouts from Enbarr closing in, Hubert found himself trapped between two prongs of a pincer attack.

His best chance to avoid detection was to move quickly and quietly.

“Are there bandits on these roads?” Hubert asked.

Mechtilde raised an eyebrow. “This close t’ th’ Stubborn Old General? Not likely.” She gave him a discerning look. “I still wouldn’t suggest ya go out on yer own though.”

“Your concern is appreciated,” Hubert said curtly.

Mechtilde looked over her shoulder to a man clad in a dirt smudged tunic, nursing a drink at the bar. “Oi, Jonas!” she called. “Yer headin’ to the Fort tomorrow, aye?”

The man, Jonas, jumped at the sound of Mechtilde’s voice, spilling beer down his chin. He squinted at Mechtilde, brow furrowed in confusion.

“Aye.”

Mechtilde nodded to Hubert at the bar. “Ya got room fer one more?”

Jonas’ inquisitive gaze fell on Hubert. Hubert instinctively bristled at the attention, pulling his spine straight to gain the full advantage of his height. Hubert didn’t know what Jonas saw, but the older man huffed out a laugh.

“Can ya be ready t’ go by sun up?”

Hubert did some quick calculations in his head. Would it be faster to leave now on foot, sleep on the road and hope he wasn’t spotted? Or would it be smarter to wait until morning and leave by cart like before? A horse drawn wagon would be slightly faster, with the advantage of allowing Hubert much needed rest during travel. He would lose valuable time overnight, but with the safety of a roof over his head.

Which was faster? Which would let him escape capture?

“Yes, I can,” Hubert finally answered.

Jonas gave him a curt nod. “Then be at the north end of town by sun up. If yer late we’ll leave ya.” And he went back to his beer.

Hubert turned back to Mechtilde, ready to square up and set out. He still had to scout a barn to sleep in. Before any words could leave his mouth, Mechtilde set a steaming plate in front of him.

Hubert blinked. “What is this?” He stared at the plate, two cuts of fish brushed with oil tempting Hubert.

Mechtilde huffed. “It’s dinner.”

Hubert’s mouth watered, as he imagined biting into his first warm meal in days. He had to remind himself to swallow. As tantalizing as the meal looked, Hubert couldn’t afford such luxuries. He reluctantly pushed the plate away.

“I didn’t order this.”

Mechtilde pushed it back. “Ya didn’t have ta.”

Hubert bit the inside of his cheek. “I can’t…” He was loathe to admit he couldn’t afford something as simple as a cheap meal in the backwaters of Adrestia.

“On the house.” Mechtilde pushed the plate closer, the familiar scent of the southern sea tickling Hubert’s nose. “The water, too.”

Hubert’s eyes flashed to her. If he’d learned one thing from his father it was that nothing was ever truly “free.” Everything had a price.

“Why?” he asked suspiciously.

Ever so slowly, he inched forward in his seat, fingers curling on the dagger up his sleeve. He braced his muscles, ready to run if need be. The closest escape route was the door he’d come through. It would take less than a second to reach it.

Mechtilde only laughed. “D’ they not have hospitality in Rusalka?”

Hubert watched her warily. Was that a subtle threat? Had she deduced that he wasn’t from the territories?

If Mechtilde noticed his wariness she didn’t comment on it. “Ya look like ya could use a warm meal and a soft bed.”

Hubert didn’t have any way to test for poison on him, outside of asking Mechtilde to take a bite herself. Even then, many of his father’s spies had built up resistances to the most common poisons. If Mechtilde served his father, there was no use asking her to taste test for him.

Hubert set a coin on the bar, pushing himself onto aching feet. “I appreciate your offer, but no.” He shuffled awkwardly out the door on his blistered feet, Mechtilde and her patrons looking on in confusion.

Hubert found a small livestock barn on the edge of town. It sat at the edge of a small pasture next to another field of vegetables. Hubert glanced around, making sure he was out of eyesight, before slowly cracking the barn door open. He slipped in, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Little light managed to pierce the inside. Hubert didn’t want to risk lighting a flame and let the shuffle of hooves guide him through the darkness. Hubert held out his hands, feeling along the rough, wooden wall. Various barn animals sounded in the darkness, an inquisitive moo, a plaintive bleat, the chirp of birds in the rafters.

He found a stall, ducking in to find the floor padded with straw. If he lay down and closed his eyes, he could almost pretend it was his straw mattress from home. He curled in the corner, his back to the wall, using his sack of stale bread as a makeshift pillow.

His stomach rumbled, perpetually underfilled as Hubert struggled to stretch out his meager rations. His whole body ached, from the blisters on his feet to the scratches on his face where he’d been thrown from a cart. Before now, Hubert had never known true discomfort. Tomorrow only offered more of the same.

But he was one day closer to seeing Edelgard again.

* * *

Isolde gently brushed Hubert’s bangs from his forehead. “It’s time for breakfast, Hubie.”

Isolde’s face swam before Hubert’s eyes, fading in and out of focus. “Don’t call me Hubie.”

No one had called him “Hubie” in years. Not since Edelgard left.

“Oh but darling, everyone’s waiting for you!”

Her hand threaded through his hair, warm and tender. How long had it been since his mother had cared for him like this? Since he’d thought of his family and felt anything but loathing?

“Don’ wanna.” Hubert rolled over, shoving his face into his pillow.

“You’re really going to keep Lady Edelgard waiting?”

“Lady Edelgard?” Hubert mumbled through the haze of sleep.

“Yes, Lady Edelgard!” Suddenly Isolde grabbed a handful of his hair and  _ pulled. _

“Lady Edelgard?” Hubert shot up.

And came face to face with a surly goat. 

With dawning horror, Hubert became aware of the layer of spittle clinging to his forehead. Hubert nearly gagged, running a cursory hand through his hair. It came away wet with a hint of cud.

Considering the layers of dirt and sweat plastered to his skin, Hubert couldn’t tell if a goat bath made any improvements. He certainly didn’t  _ feel _ or  _ smell _ any cleaner. Hubert sniffed his shirt. If anything, a night spent in the barn simply made him smell permanently of cow manure.

At least now he could pass for a commoner.

Hubert pushed himself up from the bed of straw, ignoring the surly goat. He stumbled out of the stall, into the main barn. Darkness still consumed the interior. Hubert’s hand pressed against the wall as Hubert retraced his steps from the previous night.

Untreated blisters stung between his toes, the muscles in his legs flaring with old aches. All the pain from his travels the day before returned, dulled by time and sleep. Hubert pressed on. The day was only just beginning.

He slipped out of the barn the same way he’d entered. He peered up at the sky, searching for a waypoint in the darkness. He couldn’t find the moon and the sky’s dull gray suggested sunrise was fast approaching. Hubert picked up his pace, ignoring the sting between his toes as he approached the northern edge of town.

There, smoking a pipe next to a worn old cart, Hubert found Jonas. At Hubert’s approach, Jonas looked up, breathing a cloud of smoke from his nose. It hung in the air like fog, until a summer breeze blew it away.

Jonas looked over his shoulder. “Oi! Th’ kid decided ta join us after all!”

A head popped up from inside the cart, a boy roughly Hubert’s age and every bit as dirty. “Yer gonna be travelin’ with us?” The boy’s eye shined with interest.

Hubert slowed in his walk, looking between the two men warily. He was not a fan of being outnumbered. Jonas had the size advantage, he’d grown stout and hardy from years of manual labor. But those years had also taken a toll on his body, shown in his weather hardened skin and the stoop of his shoulders. The boy, while more energetic, likely had no formal combat training in this tiny village.

If need be, Hubert could kill them both.

“Yes, at least for a little while,” Hubert answered.

The boy’s mouth stretched into a gap-toothed smile. “I’m Elias!”

The pair looked at Hubert expectantly.

“Vinzent,” he supplied.

Elias beamed at him before ducking back into the cart. Jonas continued watching him, however, as he took another puff of his pipe. The cart he leaned against was worn, its wood chipped and splintering. It had clearly seen many trips along the Empire’s roads. A dark brown mare stood hitched to its front. Her head drooped low, even as her ears followed Hubert’s footsteps.

“I was sure ya would have left in the night.” His words escaped as a cloud of smoke.

Hubert weathered his gaze without flinching. “The cart will travel faster than I can on foot. It would be foolish to refuse.”

Jonas huffed with amusement. “Ya seemed jus’ fine turnin’ down help last night.”

Hubert scoffed. “I am not in the business of accepting gifts I can’t repay.”

That wasn’t quite true. The idea of “debt” required a modicum of honor. Hubert had none to speak of. If it would serve Lady Edelgard he would gladly accept a favor he held no intention of repaying. But Hubert knew to see danger around every corner, monsters in every shadow.

Silly notions like “honor” and “chivalry” held no grasp on his heart.

But debt was an easier concept for commoners to understand. “If ya wanna make yerself useful…“ Jonas waved at the crates of produce waiting to be loaded onto the cart “Help Elias. The sooner we get the cart loaded, the sooner we can leave.”

Hubert bristled. No one gave him orders save Lady Edelgard. That aside, the heaviest thing he’d ever lifted was Princess Adelaide, who had weighed less than a sack of grain. Moving crates and barrels were jobs for the servants and weight training had never been a part of his exercise regimen.

But he supposed, if he was to blend in with commoners, he must act like them. Hubert walked around back of the cart, standing before a crate labeled “carrots.” The crates themselves were fairly small, roughly a foot on each side. How heavy could carrots be, really?

Hubert bent over, grabbing the bottom of the crate and  _ pulled. _

“Whoa, careful!” Elias called cheerily, as Hubert’s arms strained under the weight. “You’ll throw yer back out that way!”

Hubert let go with a gasp, forearms burning as he staggered back. Even after only a few seconds, Hubert indeed felt the strain in his back. He glared at Elias, as if the other boy was personally responsible for Hubert’s failure.

Elias ignored Hubert’s glare, hopping down from the cart. “Ya wanna lift with yer knees.” He walked to the crate in front of Hubert, stooping down to grab it.

Like Hubert, he curled his fingers under the crate, but instead of bending at the waist, bent at the knees. When he extended his legs, he rose to a full stand, crate held securely against his torso.

He smiled cheekily at Hubert. “See?”

Hubert grumbled under his breath. Even for something as beneath him as manual labor, it stung to be shown up by a commoner. Hubert grabbed a different crate, this time following Elias’ example. His arms still strained beneath the weight, muscles that had never before been stretched bulging out of his skin. But unlike his previous attempt, it was doable.

Between Elias and Hubert’s combined efforts, they loaded the cart by the time gold light streaked across the horizon. There was little standing room in the back of the cart, most of the space taken up by rows upon rows of crates.

“Vinzent!” Jonas called, climbing into the drivers’ seat. “Yer up here with me.”

Hubert made no protest, seating himself to Jonas’ right. Elias made no complaint, curling on top of a crate at the front of the wagon. With mild amusement, Hubert noted Elias’ position was similar to how Hubert had hid inside the merchant cart.

Jonas slapped the reins, clucking his tongue twice. The horse immediately perked up, beginning to take the first few steps of the day’s journey. It was a slow pace, but Hubert trusted it to be steady. At the very least, it wasn’t any slower than Hubert would move on foot.

The small village at the edge of Hresvelg faded, morphing from the fields of carrots and potatoes to the same rocky terrain Hubert had seen the day before. Tall, mountains obscured the horizon and every slope they crested, Hubert hoped to see Fort Merceus on the other side, only to find another hill.

Behind Hubert, Elias’ perch hardly looked comfortable, Hubert assumed Elias would normally sit up front with Jonas. With Hubert along for the ride, Elias had been pushed into the cartbed. Likely, Jonas didn’t trust Hubert with the merchandise. It was a fair assessment, Hubert wouldn’t trust himself with the merchandise either.

Despite his uncomfortable seat, Elias watched Hubert with abject fascination. Hubert did his best to ignore the other boy’s gaze setting fire to the back of his neck. 

“Where’d ya say ya were from?” Elias finally asked, as they reached the top of another hill.

“Rusalka.”

“Do they not teach y’all how ta do proper work in Rusalka?” Jonas asked, watching Hubert out of the corner of his eye.

Hubert met his gaze with a burning glare. “My family serves a noble house.” Strangely, that was the first truth Hubert had told these people. “Manual labor is rarely required of me.”

Jonas chuckles humorlessly. “Explains why ya talk like ya got a stick up yer ass.”

Hubert pointedly turned forward. If he opened his mouth, his tongue would turn sharp. There was no use in burning the bridge of those aiding him. If Jonas kicked him off the cart now, all that time spent sleeping would be for naught. Even if they grated on his nerves.

Elias, for his part, still watched Hubert with rapt fascination. “We don’t get outsiders often.” Elias leaned over the cart’s edge, pillowing his head on his arms. “What’s Rusalka like?”

“Rusalka is warm. The air always tastes of salt and fish. If you stand on the coast in the morning, you can watch the sun rise over Morfis.” Some of those things were true of Enbarr, as well. Others were ripped straight from Hubert’s textbooks.

Elias’ eyes shone with wonder. “What’s it like working for a  _ noble?” _

That question, at least, would be easier to answer. Hubert opened his mouth, intending to simply speak honestly. But nothing came. Hubert searched the depths of his soul for an answer. He scraped the insides of his lungs, peered through the gaps in his ribs, tried to contain that ever-beating heart in his chest, but the words sloughed off his fingers.

What did it mean to serve Lady Edelgard? The better question was: what did it mean to serve anything else? Hubert had been promised to Edelgard since before her birth. Loyalty had been sewn into his soul, held tight close to his heart. He had been raised for one purpose, bred for one duty. Every breath he took belonged to Edelgard. He had witnessed the depths of his father’s loyalty in the horrors Arvid had enacted at in Ionius’ stead. He saw Caleb’s devotion in the body broken on an altar so Elric could live.

Arvid may have abandoned that duty, but Hubert still held it dear. What did it mean to be loyal? What was the shape of Hubert’s loyalty?

“Elias, quit buggin’ the lad,” Jonas scolded. “Workin’ fer a noble ain’t any different than workin’ the fields.” Jonas scoffed angrily. “All that changes is whose shit yer shovelin’.”

Hubert bit the inside of his cheek, jaw tensing. Serving Edelgard and, by extension, House Hresvelg was an  _ honor. _ To imply otherwise skirted dangerously close to treason. Vile words pressed against the back of Hubert’s throat, eager for his tongue to speak them into reality. A couple uneducated commoners from a backwater village could never understand the  _ privilege _ of being Edelgard’s vassal, her sworn attendant by the very blood flowing in his veins.

But he reined them in, crammed them back down his throat into his heart where they belonged. Jonas bought him a reprieve from answering Elias’ inane questions. There was little sense in wasting it. Hubert leaned back in his seat, content to let the journey continue in silence.

The sun approached midmorning, brightly shining on Hubert’s reddened neck. A good hour of silence had passed, during which Hubert simply pictured the map of  F ódlan in his mind, trying to visualize where exactly they were.

Jonas broke the silence with a heavy sigh. He reached into the pack at his side. Instinctively, Hubert braced to defend himself. He reached for the knife up his sleeve. But when Jonas pulled his hand out of his pack, he held only a bundle of cloth.

He passed it to Hubert. “Here,” Jonas said gruffly.

Warily, Hubert took the cloth. Slowly, he pulled back the cloth wrapping to peek inside. There, Hubert found the same meal he’d been offered the night before, carefully dried and wrapped for the road.

Hubert scowled. “What is this?”

Jonas shrugged. “Mechtilde insisted I take it fer th’ road. Wouldn’t take no fer an answer.”

If Mechtilde was one of Arvid’s spies trying to poison him, this was exceedingly brazen. Still, Hubert struggled to understand what reason an old innkeeper could have for providing him so many favors. Surely there was some cost, some unspoken transaction Hubert had yet to be aware of.

“Well.” Regardless, this time Hubert had a couple perfectly suitable taste testers. “I can hardly eat this on my own.”

Hubert handed a cut of meat to Elias. He offered one to Jonas, but the older man declined. Elias happily popped the meat into his mouth with no hesitation. Hubert watched for the bob of Elias’ throat with an eagle’s eye. When a few moments passed, Elias showing no adverse effects, Hubert finally took his first bite.

It had been days since Hubert ate anything but jerky and stale bread. His stomach ached for something substantial. His body pressed onward, muscles straining as they eked every scrap of energy out of Hubert’s meals. The fire in his veins sputtered with nothing to feed it. Physically, Hubert had never pushed himself harder. He would do it gladly for a hundred days more, if it brought Edelgard back into his life.

However, Hubert’s body was his weapon, crafted to serve Edelgard. It would not hold up with only scraps of food to sate it. No matter how Hubert tried, he fire inside him needed fuel to burn.

The meat was dry and lukewarm after a day in Jonas’ pack. Even still, Mechtilde’s fish was the best damn thing he’d ever tasted.

* * *

By late morning, they rounded the last of the mountains separating them from Fort Merceus. Sunlight from the eastern sky lit the Stubborn Old General like a divine flame. It stood proudly at the crest of the highest mountain in Bergliez, Adrestia’s flag waving from its tallest tower. From one of Merceus’ parapets, one could see the coast of Aegir, all the way to the plains of Varley.

It perched on its mountain, protecting the land with eagle eyes. It bore scars from a hundred battles won, and would withstand a hundred more. It stood astride the mountain, a brazen challenge to anyone bold enough to seize it.

Hubert had only seen the fortress in storybooks and paintings, had never met the gaze of the wizened general protecting his home. It towered over him, far, far above the merchant’s path curving around its mountain. Hubert had to look up to meet the general’s eye. It stole his breath. He understood now why ballads had been written about this fortress, how Adrestia’s Old General inspired people to sing.

Fort Merceus was no simple military base. It held life, a spirit pressing out from behind stone walls. A strategic marvel lived beneath Adrestia’s banner.

Beside him, Jonas laughed. “Never seen the fort up close?”

Hubert realized belatedly that he’d let his awe get the better of him. He shook himself, tearing his eyes away from the towering fortress.

“It’s as impressive as they say,” Hubert said, refusing to meet Jonas’ gaze.

Jonas nodded in agreement. “The tithe’s ‘re a pain. But at least it keeps the village safe.”

Hubert thought it best not to comment on the taxes of commoners. He surveyed the path ahead, at the base of the mountain it split. One fork led further up, into the gates of Fort Merceus. The other, more traveled fork, led through the mountain pass into the wide-open plains of Bergliez.

But first he needed to pass the choke point of Merceus.

In the distance, Hubert noted a line of wagons along the path. Hubert squinted, shielding his eyes from the sun as he struggled to make out more detail. A cluster of merchant convoys made halting progress through the mountain pass. The wagons varied in size, bearing different banners. It suggested they were likely different traveling parties, all struggling to move forward at the same time.

Hubert pointed out the caravans to Jonas. “What’s that?”

His eyes far older than Hubert’s, Jonas strained to pick out just what Hubert saw. He leaned forward, squinting dark, beady eyes. Hubert knew the exact second Jonas saw the wagons as the frown lines around Jonas’ mouth deepened.

“Looks like they’ve set up a blockade,” he grumbled with exasperation.

The blood in Hubert’s veins turned to ice. “A blockade?” His own voice sounded far away, buried in the river between the mountains.

“Probably some poor dastard running from his debt.” Jonas turned in his seat. “Elias, start popping open the crates. Let’s get this over with as quickly as possible.”

Hubert shifted onto his knees. “I’ll help.”

Jonas made no objections and Hubert awkwardly clambered into the wagon bed with Elias. Elias shot him a grateful smile. Hubert ignored it, setting to work opening the crates. His goal was not altruism, but to find some tool he could use.

The guards were looking for  _ him,  _ of that Hubert had no doubt. They set up an inspection at the point where all the Empire’s roads converged into one. No other path out of Enbarr existed, unless Hubert were to brave the mountain wilderness. But that would waste precious time in reaching Edelgard, if the elements didn’t kill him before the Empire’s soldiers.

If avoiding the blockade was impossible, Hubert’s only other option was to move through it. Lying was off the table. Though these soldiers were unlikely to know Hubert personally, they had likely been briefed to search for someone matching his description. He didn’t have to put together a disguise either.

Even if he could, the moment the guards described him to his travelling companions, he’d be sold out. Hubert opened another crate of carrots then paused to observe his party. Elias worked diligently, efficiently popping each box open.

Elias could likely be swayed to his cause. The boy seemed young and impressionable, he hung on Hubert’s every word, entranced by the prospect of an outsider. That naïveté was fertile soil for Hubert to seed a bed of lies. Hubert could weave a compelling tale about the cruelties and hardships he’d suffered and why he needed to evade the Empire’s grasp. Even if the story he wove was a tapestry of lies, Elias would drink it down.

Jonas proved to be a bigger problem. He’d expressed some radical sentiments and could likely be swayed against the Empire, particularly its soldiers. But he also seemed to distrust Hubert implicitly. Hubert could hardly blame him. When Elias was distracted by Jonas, Hubert snatched a handful of carrots and shoved them in his bag. Hubert was simply a dishonest person.

If he could get them both on his side, that would increase his chances dramatically. They could hide him beneath a tower of crates or allow him to hold onto the underside of the cart while they passed through. But bringing two people into the fold created two more points of vulnerability. They became two chinks in his armor, easily pried apart by those who sought him.

Hubert could kill them, cut off the source of infection. But eventually their bodies would be found or their absence noted. Everything left a trace and the trail of blood would lead back to Hubert.

They approached the blockade and Hubert’s options narrowed before his eyes. Ahead stood two soldiers, their armor dark enough to swallow the light. They pushed back the crowd, two immovable obsidian jewels. They inspected each cart that passed, checking their cargo and passengers. Each time they found nothing and waved them through.

Flanking the foot soldiers, two knights stood stalwart against the tide. They sat astride dark horses, the shoulders of their armor spined like mountains breaking the skyline. Hubert would recognize them anywhere, the Empire’s Dark Knights, mages strong enough to rush headlong into battle. They watched the procession behind helmed faces, their mounts gnashing at the bit. Black hooves tore into the ground, ready to chase down anyone that tried to evade the blockade.

Another cart approached the pass from the south, blocking Hubert in alongside his companions. Hubert kept his head down, continuing to open the crates. It was only through sheer force of will that he kept his hands from shaking. If Hubert tried to stand against Merceus’ soldiers, he’d be cut down in seconds. He only knew one damned spell.

Jonas pulled his mare to a stop, only two carts between them and the blockade. The slope of the mountains caged Hubert in on either side, the trailing carts pushing them forward. Hubert couldn’t lie, he couldn’t hide, he couldn’t evade the guards…

Hubert opened the last crate at the back of the cart. Only a few feet behind them, walked an old, dappled draft horse, plodding along the path. Hubert glanced over his shoulder. Elias and Jonas looked forward, their eyes on the soldiers ahead. Hubert turned back to the old horse and thrust his palm forward.

The only way out was through.

Fire burst forth from Hubert’s hand, blasting the ground beneath the horse’s feet. The horse immediately leapt forward with a panicked bray. The cart behind it lurched, sliding forward into the fire Hubert set. Hubert watched with grim satisfaction as the cart’s wheel caught fire.

“Whoa, Judda!” the owner shouted, falling forward as they desperately tried to rein their horse in.

But instinct won out over loyalty and Judda took off down the path at breakneck pace. Hubert braced himself the moment before the carts collided, holding onto Jonas’ wagon with still-burning hands. The earth-shattering  _ crack _ of splintered wood echoed across Fort Merceus. 

“What’s going on?” One of the soldiers called.

Judda pushed through, wood scraping against wood as the carts locked together. Judda pulled them both forward, bending its rigid frame. Hundreds of pounds of carrots smashed into the back of Jonas’ horse. She whinnied frantically, leaping forward. Both carts scraped together, under the horses’ combined strength.

A wheel cracked, the cart’s surface tilted, threatening to spill Hubert onto the ground. A shower of splinters lanced Hubert’s face as the frame beneath his feet cracked.

“They’re trying to break through!”

Judda pulled against her harness, leathers snapping as her owner struggled to pull her back. She pulled clear of Jonas’ cart, rushing forward in a frantic gallop. Her own cart left deep gouges in the dirt, dragging behind her with its axle broken. Her cart swung wide, smashing into the next.

It created a domino effect, where each cart the Judda hit crashed into its horse, sending them into a wild panic. Judda continued to run, desperate to escape the fire on her tail, but unable to outrun it. Hearing the commotion and smelling the smoke licking Judda’s heels, the horse at the front of the blockade bolted.

“There goes another one!”

The horses and merchants scattered, storming out of the mountain pass as one entity. They burst through the blockade in a frenzy. All the soldiers could do was stand aside to avoid the stampede. Crates spilled from overloaded merchant wagons, leather harnesses snapping against a thousand pounds of feral beast. Jonas held the reins tight in weathered hands, pulling back, trying to get his mounts to yield.

“Whoa!” he shouted, voice lost beneath a cacophony of hoofbeats and screams.

Hubert grit his teeth, holding tight to the cart’s frame, splinters digging into his hands. Elias held on similarly, head duck to protect his face. But Hubert kept his face up, watching as the merchants spilling onto the plains of Bergliez, seeking freedom on the other side of the mountain. Behind them the two dark knights followed.

“After them!” they shouted, pointing after Judda, who galloped down the eastern path.

They blew past Hubert, single minded in their search for the instigator of the chaos. They galloped down the valley in a clatter of hoofbeats just as Jonas finally pulled his horse to a stop. Hubert stepped back, letting the flames on his hands fade. The cart burned where he’d held it, fire flickering across the splintered wood.

Excellent.

Hubert stepped down out of the broken cart, hobbling to Jonas. “What happened?” he gasped.

Jonas didn’t have time to respond before Elias pointed to the back of the cart. “Fire!” he shouted.

Jonas whirled around, cursing as he saw the back of his cart alight with flames. Smoke began to rise, the mare’s ears pressed flat to their necks. Eyes still wide from the chaos, they threatened to run again.

“I’ve got the horse!” Hubert called, rushing to grab the mare’s harness.

Without question, Jonas jumped into the back of the cart with Elias, running to calm the growing blaze. With practiced ease, Huert flipped the dagger out of his sleeve. Quickly, he cut through the worn leathers tying the horse to the cart. He grabbed her reins in one hand, urging her to run forward.

She leapt forward easily, eager to put distance between her and the flaming cart. Hubert ran alongside her a few paces, glancing back to his companions. Frantically, the two men tried to smother the fire and save what little produce they had left. They paid no mind to Hubert.

Still running, he grabbed the yoke on either side of her neck, fire-scarred fingers digging into the worn leather. He would only get one shot. He kept running alongside the horse, then used his momentum to  _ jump. _

He awkwardly threw himself over the horse’s back, clinging onto what little harness remained. The horse snorted, breaking into a canter as Hubert’s weight fell over her back. The change of pace nearly threw him off. But Hubert held tight, his arms straining and fingers blistering. He tried to swing his legs over the horse’s back, nearly toppling over the other side.. He could  _ not  _ fail. He would let this horse drag him all the way to Fhirdiad if he must.

He tried again, leveraging his grip on the harness to pivot his lower half. He gasped with relief as his leg fell over the other side. Properly on the horse’s back, Hubert sat up and took hold of the horse’s reins. He glanced over his shoulder, at the burning cart and scattered merchants in his wake. Amidst all the chaos, no one had noticed him sneak away.

Hubert pressed himself to the stolen horse’s neck, hands tangling in her mane as his long legs held tight. “Best put as much distance behind us as we can.”

The soldiers had pursued Judda down the western path, so Hubert turned east. He spurred her onward, pushing her into a hard gallop. By the time they noticed what he’d done, Hubert planned to disappear into the plains of Varley. He held on and raced toward that horizon.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one big trigger warning in the end notes

Hubert pushed the mare, Brown, for a good hour before he let her slow to an extended trot. Her nostrils flared, sides heaving beneath Hubert’s burning legs as she struggled to catch her breath. Hubert allowed it, guiding her off the main road. He glanced over his shoulder and saw nothing but rocky flatland stretching as far as the eye could see.

The soldiers had no doubt realized what happened, when they caught up to Judda and found nothing but an old man and a destroyed cart. They would double back to the fort and find the burning wreckage Hubert left in his wake. Jonas would tell them of the oil slick of a boy that snatched their hospitality from open palms and repaid them with ruin.

They would know their quarry slipped through their grasp.

His path was significantly harder to predict on this side of Fort Merceus. From Merceus, Hubert’s possible routes into Faerghus branched out. He could cut straight through Garreg Mach and down its mountain into Charon, or take the more conservative path through western Varley. If he really wanted to throw off his pursuers, he could cross Myrddin into the Alliance.

His pursuers had no way of knowing which path he would take. One runaway teenager was much harder to track throughout the whole of the Empire. The wreckage in Hubert’s wake would be obscured by the paths he crossed, his own crimes of survival hidden underneath those of others. What significance did one stolen blanket have in a world where peasants stole bread to survive?

Their Empire’s forces would be divided, spread out and easier to evade.

Brown’s frame was sturdy and strong, built for pulling cargo at slow paces. In a flat out run, her own weight worked against her, as her thin, reedy legs struggled to pull thick, corded muscle. She was not built for speed or endurance the way Hubert pushed her. He had no intention of running her into the ground; she was far more useful to him as a mount than as meat. But she was not the ideal horse for a covert cross-continental chase.

Hubert took a moment to consider his options.

The path around the Oghma mountains through Hevring was long. It was the one Edelgard took with Arundel on the road to Fhirdiad. It would eventually take him straight through Arundel, a detour that could provide useful intelligence.

However, it was far too long, wasting days that the imperial army could use to strengthen the border.

Taking the road across Myrddin into Leicester would avoid the strongest of the imperial forces. Between Faerghus and the Alliance, Leicester was the weaker nation. There was little need for the heavily fortified troops stationed at the border of Arundel. But the path through Leicester led through two borders. Once across Myrddin and once through Ailell.

Hubert would walk through the Abyss itself to see Edelgard again. But if he walked through Ailell, the Valley of Torment, chances were he would _never_ see Edelgard again. Really, that left only one option.

Hubert needed to move swiftly and quietly. Birds could only travel so fast and the Empire had _many_ messages to send. If Hubert could traverse Varley quickly enough, without attracting attention, he could cut through the Oghma mountains before the Empire’s word reached their border.

It was a risky gambit and brought Hubert closer to Garreg Mach then he would like. The monastery would be one of the first places notified of his escape. Its high vantage point at the very center of the three nations made them a valuable ally. Their sky patrol could easily catch anyone attempting to cross borders.

Whether the Church chose to give their aid was left to their own discretion. Hubert couldn’t count on them either way.

It would keep Hubert from the dangers of Ailell, but in exchange would lead him straight through Magdred Way. While far less dangerous that Ailell, Magdred still held is fair share of hazards. Heavy fog often rolled down from the Oghma mountains, a funeral shroud falling over the trees.

Right now, it was Hubert’s best option. It was the fastest while keeping Hubert from unnecessary risk. His decision made, Hubert turned Brown to the Oghma mountains, jagged peaks cutting into the horizon, and spurred her on.

They rode long into the evening across the dry, rocky terrain of Varley. Few crops found purchase in Varley’s soil. Instead, Varley made use of its terrain through mining. Large quarries cut into the side of the mountains that lined the western edge of Varley. The rhythmic _tink_ of pickaxe on stone echoed across the plains, long into the evening.

Hubert pushed Brown until the sun disappeared beneath the horizon, long after Varley’s miners had retired to their homes. Hubert bedded down inside the shelter of a shallow iron mine. He slept on the ground, stomach empty save for the raw carrot he’d eaten for dinner. He tossed a carrot to Brown before tying her to a support beam on the surface.

He slept only a few hours, before the ache in his shoulders and stomach roused him. It was just as well; that was all the sleep he could afford. He started off before the first light of dawn. Brown struggled to keep the pace he wanted, her fur still matted with sweat from the day before. Every time his attention wavered, she broke into a walk. Hubert urged her back into a slow canter. He intended to reach Oghma by nightfall and there was still a lot of ground to cover.

In truth, Hubert’s body ached as well. He had been taught to ride a horse the same as every noble child, but he was no endurance rider. His legs were not trained to hold on for hours unending, without a saddle, no less. His calves burned where they gripped Brown’s ribs, his entire leg threatening to give out under the strain. His shoulders and back were twisted from all the nights spent on hard ground. His eyes burned from lack of sleep. No doubt if he looked in a mirror, they’d be dark and hollow.

But he pushed through that pain and forced his mount to do the same. If he faltered, he would be found. He would be returned to Enbarr and locked away in his room. Myson would be free to find Edelgard and subject her to the same horrors Adelaide had endured. History would repeat itself, and Edelgard would fall.

So Hubert would not falter. Not even for a second.

In the light of the midmorning sun, Hubert stopped inside a small mining town. He allowed Brown to drink from a nearby stream and eat the dry grass. For himself, he gnawed on another carrot. The town was bigger than the village outside Merceus, but still tiny in comparison to Enbarr. A couple shops lined the streets, a modest bakery whose bread made Hubert’s stomach groan and a small tailor, fur lined cloaks displayed in the windows.

Hubert tied Brown to a post outside and entered the shop. Natural sunlight spilled through the window, brightening the shop’s interior. A number of shelves displayed fine clothes, dark fur cloaks set next to fine, white lace collars, testaments to the tailor’s expertise. A pair of deep leather gloves caught Hubert’s eye, supple with fine stitching.

Hubert wasn’t alone, a couple of other patrons browsed the wares. Nearby stood a tall cupboard, full to the brim with spindles of fabric: silk, cotton, wool. A pair stood toward the back of the shop, a man and woman. 

The woman pressed a bag jingling with coins into the man’s hands. “Truly marvelous work, you’ve simply outdone yourself!”

“I am just glad to have been able to craft such a fine piece.” He passed the woman a bundle of cloth in exchange. Presumably the tailor, then.

Hubert kept their conversation in his periphery. Their words meant little, but the distraction was vital. He edged towards the display. The sun glinted off fine glass beads stitched into a valley of silk. A fine blouse laid across the table, easily the most expensive item in the shop. Hubert spent a moment appreciating the craftsmanship. Easily, it would rival that of the finest tailor in Enbarr. Hubert held the blouse up, towards the light.

Immediately, the tailor drew in. “Ah, excuse me, don’t touch that!”

He abandoned the previous customer, practically running to Hubert’s side. He snatched the blouse from Hubert’s hand. Hubert expected the tailor to swoop. No one in Enbarr would stand for a common-bred boy with a dirty face and blistered hands touching their wares. Even in Varley, this far from Adrestia’s heart, some things remained the same.

But Hubert feigned shock, jumping back in alarm. He collided with the fabric shelves stacked against the wall. With flailing hands feigning incoordination, Hubert knocked a spool of cotton from the shelf.

“I am so sorry!” Hubert knelt to pick up the cotton.

He knocked into the shelf again, this time silk falling to the floor. The tailor dropped the blouse onto the display and rushed to Hubert’s side. Frantically, he gathered the means of his livelihood into his arms.

“Here, let me…” Huber offered insincerely.

“You’ve been enough help already, thank you!” the tailor huffed, yards of fine wool spilling out of his grasp.

Hubert stumbled back again, knocking the blouse onto the floor, alongside the pair of gloves he’d admired. The tailor whirled around at Hubert’s bumbling missteps. More of his work fell to the floor, to be tarnished by dirt and stained. Hubert picked up a fur cloak he’d knocked over.

“Just leave!”

Hubert turned, bundling the cloak against his chest. He glanced over his shoulder one last time. The shopkeeper was entirely focused on his supplies, trying to make sure they were salvageable. He acted as if silk and cotton had a will of their own or any thoughts at all. Surely one poor child’s touch would not sully them forever.

Hubert wouldn’t know. He wasn’t a child.

Hubert quickly but calmly hurried towards the door. No one paid a second thought to the dirty, foul-smelling teenager spilling back into the street where he belonged. Brown looked more energized after a moment’s rest. Hubert couldn’t say the same, his feet and eyes still burning. But it would have to be enough.

Hubert untied Brown and swung onto her back. As fast as possible, he urged her out of town. By the time the tailor noticed a missing cloak, Hubert planned to stand on Faerghan soil.

* * *

Hubert began crossing the Oghma mountains by midday. The mountains rose out of the ground, thorns lancing across a perfect skyline. He reached the base, where the merchant path curved west into Hevring, and spurred Brown upward. There was no proper pathway. Hubert would just have to make his own.

He stayed low through the mountains, avoiding high altitudes, remaining under tree cover. Venturing too high up the mountain would only waste time and expose him to enemy fliers. He would still be significantly higher than the coastal city of Enbarr.

The first cold wind his his face, battering into his naked skin with unrelenting fury. It stole his breath, every wind like a solid punch to the gut. Humid clouds of air escaped his mouth with every exhale.

From his studies, Hubert knew the Oghma mountains to be cold. They brought the first touch of the Faerghan chill, a teaser of what he would face in the far north. Hubert knew this, and yet he was still unprepared when the first mountain gale lashed his skin.

Hubert pulled his stolen cloak tighter around him. It helped, but not nearly enough. While the cloak shielded his body from the chill, his face and hands were still uncovered. Wind cut into the dry, cracking skin on his knuckles, branding into the back of his hand.

He still wore his casual clothes from Enbarr. A layer of grit and soot caked his tunic, sweat plastering the cotton beneath his arms. Chafed, raw skin burned where the material dug gaping holes into his skin, chasms that opened wider every time he moved his arm. Long tears cut into the hem of his trousers, the fine thread stretching and coming undone every time he moved.

Hubert’s clothes were cut from light, airy cloth, meant to breathe through balmy Enbarr summers. They were designed for noble children, meant for long, idle days lounging in the gardens. They were not designed for mountains, nor long travel in the face of the elements.

Hubert peered up to the east, where Garreg Mach’s spires pierced the heavens. Little dots buzzed around the mountain, wyvern riders patrolling the grounds. He knotted freezing fingers in Brown’s mane and urged her onward.

The path through Oghma was slow. Unlike the terrain Hubert had crossed until now, this area of Oghma was largely untread. There was no clear road for merchant caravans, too many natural paths that ended in rocky cliffs. For anyone crossing through the Adrestian-Faerghan border, it was much easier to simply go through Garreg Mach. Hubert didn’t have that option. So where there was no path before, he’d simply need to blaze his own.

Hubert guided Brown through the rocky terrain one step at a time. The mare was hesitant, to step on rocks that might give way underfoot. She was trained for strength on surefooted ground, not the nimble dexterity required to scale uncharted ground. But Hubert urged her onward and she was nothing if not obedient. Step by step, she crossed steep hills, forded small mountain streams, and doubled back when the path became untraversable. All while Hubert searched the eastern sky, waiting for a dragon to swoop down from the peak.

Evening came, sunset lengthening tall mountain shadows. Brown faltered, fearing a predator beneath the shade of every pine tree. The night only grew colder as the sun sank below the horizon, the temperature dropping rapidly without light to warm the ground.

Hubert’s fingers froze, tangled in Brown’s mane. They were pale, tinged blue beneath his nails. He could no longer feel them, if he even tried to move them they ached as frozen muscle pulled against brittle bone.

He struggled to guide Brown with frozen hands. When he tried to turn her head, his arm simply fell useless at his side. His travel weary, frozen body could no longer muster the strength to keep moving. Brown paused, her rider’s trembling hands unable to guide her.

They stood cradled in the valley of two hills, sunset painting the terrain a vibrant orange. After an evening of travel, Magdred Way couldn’t be far. The promise of Hubert’s goal seemed so close, yet still so far from his reach. Were the fog-clouded forests of Magdred just over the next hill? Or the next? How many more peaks still separated Hubert from his goal?

And once he reached Magdred, what then? He still had to traverse the whole of Faerghus to reach Fhirdiad. Once he breached the Kingdom’s capital, how did he intend to locate Edelgard? What guarantee did he have that Edelgard still resided in Fhirdiad’s walls? Would he travel all this way, across the entirety of Fódlan only to be left holding the ashes of his dreams?

If Edelgard _was_ there, what then? How were two children to survive in this world on their own? While running from forces they didn’t understand? Was running even possible? Was there anywhere the light touched that they could hide from those who slithered in the dark? Was Hubert prepared to stand with Edelgard against the whole of the Empire?

A silly question. Hubert had been sworn to Edelgard’s side since he first drew breath. He had not come this far only to waste away on a frostbitten mountain. He could not turn back now. His only way out was through. The rest could wait.

Hubert grit his teeth against the cold, against the doubt curdling inside him. “Go on.” he rasped. “We cannot stop here.”

Hubert kicked Brown, but even his legs refused to move. His calves burned and Hubert had no idea if Brown could feel anything at all. The mare looked forward, one ear turned to follow Hubert’s voice. The reins fell from Hubert’s hands, resting limply over Brown’s withers.

Hubert pressed his palms flat to Brown’s neck, one on top of the other, elbows locked straight. He _pushed_ and ignored the pain shooting up his arms.

 _“Move!”_ he begged.

She was an animal, but for once Hubert prayed that Ferdinand was right. He needed this beast to understand, to carry him into the sunset when he was too weak to carry himself. If he had to dismount and continue on his own, Hubert feared his legs would buckle and shatter beneath his weight. Brown had a thick fur coat, she was built to withstand harsher climates than man. She could continue on long after Hubert’s body gave into the chill. 

For a moment, Brown simply stood, turned resolutely forward. Hubert hissed, preparing himself to climb down from her back. It was the last thing he wanted, to face the night on his own. But time waited for no man and Hubert needed to press on.

Then Brown took a step, rocks scratching against her hooves. Hubert gasped, frozen hands curled tight to give him purchase. Brown took another step, a rock skittering against the ground. Hubert nearly weeped in relief, as the mare slowly plodded up the mountain. His legs still burned where they dug into Brown’s side. But she paid it not mind, continuing up the hill at Hubert’s command. Hubert simply held on with rigid hands.

By the time Magdred Way spread out below the mountain, the sun had disappeared fully beneath the horizon. Through the darkness, Hubert only saw the silhouette of trees piercing the horizon. His shoulders slumped in relief as the trees spread out in the valley beneath Oghma.

Hubert had crossed through the mountains and seen the light on the other side, without an imperial soldier or wyvern rider in sight. He was safe, for now it seemed. Now he walked on Faerghan soil, where Empire soldiers could not reach. His only enemy now was the ever present cold of Faerghus.

That could be dealt with, in time, with more help, now that he knew exactly was he was getting into. But first, he needed to survive the night. As they approached Magdred Way, Hubert surveyed the land with piercing eyes. Hubert squinted against the darkness, searching for a hollow within the mountainside that might provide cover.

He found it in a shallow cave carved into the base of the mountain. He only spotted it once Brown was nearly at its mouth. In the dark of night, its gaping maw blended into the side of the mountain itself. He sent a bolt of fire into the cave, scouting for any dangerous wildlife. A cloud of bats beat their wings, swarming out of the cave and dispersing into the night. Other than the bats, Hubert found no other signs of life. Hubert could suffer a few bats for the night.

Hubert tied Brown to a rock inside the cave and gathered kindling from near the entrance. He lit a small fire inside. Tactically, he would have preferred to forgo the fire. In the dark of Magdred, the light and smoke of a fire served as a beacon. But in the cold air, Hubert doubted he’d survive the night without.

Warmth spilled over Hubert’s frozen skin like a balm from the Goddess. Hubert gasped, hit with warmth like a tidal wave to his chilled face and held his hands close enough to the fire to burn. The relief was excruciating, as blood rushed back into his fingers. They melted under the fire’s attention. Muscle like hardened glass turned to water, falling limply in his lap.

Brown didn’t quite know what to think of the fire. Smoke normally signalled danger, as it had when Hubert stole her from her master. Animal instinct told her to run. But Hubert crouched in front of it, almost touching his hands to it without burning. Brown herself ached with the Faerghan chill. Her legs shook beneath her, muscles frozen stiff. Despite the fire’s danger, its soothing warmth lured her in.

Her hooves clicked on the stone ground as she approached Hubert’s side. Hubert glanced up, rubbing his palms furiously over his chest, trying to coax warmth back into his skin. She came to a stop at Hubert’s side, lowering her head to sniff the fire.

Hubert chuckled, reaching out to run his frostbitten knuckles over Brown's nose. “I suppose Ferdinand was right,” Hubert grumbled. “You’re a bit more intelligent than I gave you credit for.”

Brown ignored him, simply nosing into his hand. Hubert sighed, grabbing the last of the carrots from his bag.

“This is the last one,” he warned, as if Brown would understand what he was saying.

Undeterred, Brown stretched her long neck, lips reaching for the carrot. Hubert let her take it. She happily ground it between her teeth. Her loud munching echoed through the cave and Hubert couldn’t help the amused smile tugging at his lips. The skin at the corner of his mouth cracked. It felt like he hadn’t smiled in weeks.

“I’ll have to find some more food for us both,” Hubert muttered aloud.

Hubert had stretched his meals as far as they would go. Any more and he risked falling prey to exhaustion. And even still, his meager rations were running out. The path to Fhirdiad ran through Charon and Galatea, neither territory known for bountiful harvests. Hubert would have a difficult time scavenging for food in the fields.

But for now, Hubert would eat what he could, even as his stomach protested. He curled beneath a thick fur cloak, facing the warm light of the fire. Even despite his aches and pains, weariness lead him to a restless sleep. All he could do was take his journey one step, one day at a time. One day, he’d see Edelgard again. He was certain of it.

He had to be.

* * *

Hubert roused from a restless sleep as he had every day on this wild dash to Fhirdiad. The pangs in his stomach pierced even the veil of sleep. Hubert groaned, eyes still heavy even as his mind cleared. His body begged for just one more hour of sleep, to sink into the void one more time. In sleep, he could leave his physical aches behind. The looming threat of the Empire no longer plagued his mind, even as he ignored the soldier snapping at his heels.

In his dreams, he saw Edelgard’s face, nine years old and round with youth. She sat in the garden, her laughter like the clearest of bells. Adelaide’s hair gleamed, auburn and bright, as she reached to lay a wreath of carnations in Edelgard’s hair.

“How do I look?” Edelgard asked, amethyst eyes searching their faces.

A fog muffled her voice, like she spoke from far, far away. Hubert opened his mouth to speak, intending to assure her that she was as radiant as ever, a jewel within the palace walls. But someone else’s words broke the silence.

“You look lovely, El.” Elric smiled, the sun breaking out from the cover of clouds. “The prettiest flower in all of Enbarr.”

Adelaide turned to face her brother, a gleam in her eye. Gently, she set a circlet of lilies over Elric’s crown.

“I am not so sure,” she said, her voice musical and sweet. “You are quite a pretty flower yourself.” She looked to Elric’s right. “Is that not so, Caleb?”

Caleb appeared at Elric’s side, dark hair tousled by the wind as he poured Elric’s tea. He looked to Adelaide, his eyes a beautiful gemstone green, not the bloody craters Hubert remembered them as.

“My Lord and Lady Edelgard are both pretty, just as you are, Lady Adelaide,” Caleb said diplomatically.

But Elric’s eyes brightened, a shower of stars in the night. “You think I’m pretty?” He turned the full force of his smile to Caleb.

Caleb sent Elric a withering look, their faces almost touching. “It is simply the truth.”

Elric’s smile only widened, bright enough to rival the sunrise.

Hubert opened his eyes. He lay on hard stone, warmed by the ashes of a once bright fire, holding the memory of a dream that would never be.

He shakily pushed himself to sit, keeping the cloak wrapped tight around him. His neck and shoulders protested as he moved, aching at his fifth night spent without a proper bed. Every movement brought a new twinge of pain. His shirt chafed over his ribs, where his body trapped sweat beneath his clothes. Blisters formed between his toes, burning with every step he took. Raw cracked valleys of skin opened between his fingers, where leather reins and the wind had rubbed them raw.

His stomach groaned, begging for something more substantial than bread. Shakily, Hubert tore open his pack, his skin scratching against the leather. He pulled a piece of bread from inside, shakily shoving it in his mouth. It hurt to even open his mouth, his lips cracked and bleeding.

He forced his breakfast down with a sip of water. His mouth was too dry to swallow on his own. He shouldered his pack, fastening the cloak around his shoulders. Another long day of travel stretched out before him. Just the thought of pushing himself to stand on blistered feet was excruciating. There would be so many more steps before he saw his journey to its end, each one more painful than the last.

Hubert closed his eyes and took a breath. There was no other option. He could languish in dread for hours, and his reality would not change. The pain would still be there, waiting to be felt.

Hubert pushed himself to a stand on shaky limbs. His arms and legs threatened to give out under his weight. He hissed, forcing his legs to straighten, ignoring how his calves locked up. He pushed through it, forcing his rebelling muscles to obey. With each step growing less shaky, he staggered to the entrance of the cave.

Under the sunrise, thick fog had rolled down from the mountain into Magdred Way. Hubert could only see a few feet in front of him, fog obscuring the trees stretching through the pass. Hubert cursed under his breath. He had hoped to avoid this hazard. It seemed the Goddess would not be so merciful.

He scanned the surrounding area for Brown. Hubert had tied her inside last night. However, his hands had been numb and the leathers old. It was possible she had broken loose in the night and sought the rich, dew-covered grass of Magdred Way. With the fog, he could only see a few feet ahead. If Brown was nearby, he couldn’t see her. Hubert wouldn’t risk calling for her, not when his voice could attract unwanted attention. Whether the fog hid enemy soldiers or natural wildlife, Hubert thought it best to steer clear.

Thankfully, in the fog-dampened forest of Magdred, a horse was easy to track. Brown was not a creature of stealth; hoofprints and snapped branches marked her path into the forest. Hubert followed the deep tracts of mud into the trees. The fog settled over him like a dewy second skin. It was the shadows of Enbarr made corporeal. All those nights sneaking through the palace corridors taught him how to move without making a sound.

Hubert moved through the grass with careful, silent steps, painful as they were. He snuck from one tree to the next, soundless, wraith-like. When he glanced back at the path he’d followed, he found no trace of his presence, no leaf or twig out of place.

Every time he paused, back plastered against tree bark, he listened. Through the fog, his sight was all but useless. He could only see far enough to follow Brown’s trail before it faded into the mist. He had to rely on his other senses. He stood, blending himself into the tree’s shadow, and listened to the forest.

Evergreens stretched into the sky like open arms, wind rustling the needles on old pine trees. He kept moving. He could picture the forest clearly in his mind, even as the fog clouded his vision. Songbirds perched high overhead, heralding the sunrise while a family of shrikes watched from on high. Water trickled to the west, opening into the mouth of a lake, frogs croaking in the shallows.

He walked deeper into the mist, listening, listening for the piece that didn’t fit.

_Crunch._

He stopped mid-stride.

_Crunch crunch crunch._

The grind of a horse’s teeth cut through the din. Hubert’s shoulders slumped in relief. As he’d hoped, it seemed Brown had gotten hungry and simply wandered off in the night. If she had gotten injured or even stolen, there was no guarantee Hubert would be able to find another horse. He might have had to walk to Fhirdiad on his own.

The sound lay only a few feet ahead, likely at the end of the hoofprints Hubert had followed. Even though his goal was just out of reach, Hubert still took care to be silent. He hadn’t made it this far through recklessness. He took a step.

_Snap!_

Hubert’s blood ran cold. _He_ hadn’t caused that sound. He knew better than to step on a stray twig. It came from the same direction the hoofprints led. Hubert held his breath. It was still possible the noise was simply Brown, shifting her hoof onto an unfortunately placed leaf. Hubert held perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle save for the ones in his ears.

_Snap! Snap!_

The crackle of leaves came in pairs, rhythmic, one after the other. Like footsteps. The steps lacked the weight Hubert expected of Brown. After two days, he knew how her stride sounded. That wasn’t it.

Brown lifted her head, ears turned in Hubert’s direction, giving away his location.

_Snap! Snap!_

Someone was _here._

They were moving; any second they could turn towards Hubert. Hubert could run, he was quick on his feet. But he could only run for so long. If he didn’t escape with Brown then he would only exhaust himself. He could dash past the stranger, climb onto Brown and gallop out of Magdred Way. But if the stranger was a soldier they might have allies, waiting for them to flush Hubert out.

Hubert needed more information, just as he always had in Enbarr. The only way he could fight was by knowing his enemy. He needed to watch and wait, as he had so many days in the palace. He needed to hide.

Hubert grabbed onto a thick branch with his cracked, blistered hands. He braced his foot on the trunk and _pulled._ As soon as a high branch was in reach, he grabbed it and pulled again, pushing his long legs off the first. All those days scaling the palace roof prepared him for this, as he held his breath, fighting the urge to pant. He would not let his breathing give him away.

The branches creaked beneath his weight. He stopped, arms straining to hold him as he hung awkwardly beneath the branch. He tried again, slower this time, struggling to distribute his weight so as not to strain the tree. He pulled himself up, straddling the branch a good fifteen feet above the ground. Through the fog, he could only see the ground directly beneath the tree. The thick canopy would have to obscure him. Another branch simply wasn’t an option.

He crowded against the trunk, piercing the fog below with eagle eyes. In the relative safety of the treetops, Hubert took his time, focusing on the stranger and nothing else. He heard the rhythmic snap against the forest floor, leaves and underbrush caving to heavy greaves. Fine metal clinked as they walked, their heel snapping against the ground.

Dread slithered through Hubert’s veins, caging in his heart.

Despite their armor, they stepped lightly. He could picture them in his mind. Slight, hands folded behind their back, the mist parting for them at the force of her will. Hubert knew those footsteps. He’d heard them countless times, outside his room at Nerium Manor, clipping against the stone pathway in the gardens.

“Hubert!” Heidrun called, still hidden within the fog.

Hubert bit the inside of his cheek, fighting to contain his breaths. She was _here._ She had followed him halfway across the _continent._ For what? Just to stop him in his tracks _again?_ His limbs shook, so vehemently he feared he’d fall from his perch. He braced an arm on the trunk, steadying himself.

“I know you’re out there!” Heidrun screamed into the fog.

She strode through the mist like no man nor beast could stop her. What Hubert wouldn’t give for that power. But she walked in circles. She knew Hubert was nearby, but couldn’t pinpoint his location. Goddess willing, she wouldn’t think to look up.

“Did you really think you could make it all the way to Fhirdiad?”

She was taunting him, intentionally trying to draw him out, get him to falter. Hubert grit his teeth, knuckles turning white where they held on. He would not give her the satisfaction.

“Did you think you could evade _me?”_ Heidrun challenged. “I told you before, I know your tricks. You could run to the edge of the world and I will be one step ahead of you!”

She circled again, a vulture waiting for its prey to pass on. The carrion had circled Caleb, lying dead in Gronder Field. They’d pecked out his eyes and torn at his flesh. Now Heidrun prepared to do the same. Hubert traced a sigil in the air.

“You’ve _lost,_ Hubert!” she yelled. “You can either surrender and let me take you home…”

Heidrun stepped out of the fog into Hubert’s line of sight. He drew his fist back, energy buzzing in his hand. Heidrun’s dark leather armor swallowed the light, spined gauntlets curled like claws.

“Or I will burn this entire forest to smoke out one _pathetic_ rat.”

Hubert’s palm shot forward, fire bursting from his veins to ignite the fog.

Heidrun’s scream rattled the forest.

Her knees hit the forest floor. Spouts of flame erupted from the ground. She disappeared beneath the torrent of fire. In an instant, the forest set alight. Fire tangled in the tree branches, devouring all in its path. It drew all the water from the air and coughed up boiling steam in its place. 

The fog-turned-steam rose, up, up, up, twisting in a violent gale as it tore through the trees. It soared heavenward, a violent updraft stinging Hubert’s skin. No longer a comforting shroud, coal-fired air branded Hubert’s flesh. He gasped and a mouthful of fire rushed to fill his lungs. It hurt to even _breathe,_ every breath smothered him with self-made ash.

Below, Heidrun lit like a funeral pyre. Flames tangled in her hair, a crown of thorns melting the flesh from her bone. Once smooth skin blistered and bubbled, blooming into a perfect rose as she gasped for air. Blinding pain lit the left side of her body, every nerve alight. She pried her eye open, struggling against her own muscles and skin. Through the slits of her vision, all she saw was light. Tears trailed down her cheeks, stinging raw, open flesh.

Heidrun pressed a hand into the hollow of her eye. Desperately, she tried to beat out the flame, just enough to see. Her gauntlet came away bloody, clumps of hair sticking between the plates. She opened an eye, barely able to make out the shadows cast by the flame. But it would have to be enough.

Heidrun pulled herself to her feet, even as the world burned around her. Through tear stained vision, she tried to find her brother, tried to find that spark that lit the blaze. She bared her teeth, knives lit by orange flame, and _howled._

Ten feet above, Hubert watched his fireball grow. It darkened the ground beneath Heidrun’s feet. When all the twigs and leaves turned to ash in its maw, the fire turned its attention to the trees. It gnashed at the bark, swallowing it whole as it climbed, only ever gaining speed. Hubert lay directly in its path.

Hubert looked down into Heidrun’s blurred gaze. The flames approached, licking at the leaves beneath Hubert’s feet. He pulled the dagger from his sleeve, balancing on the branch like a tightrope. Just as his perch crumbled to ash, Hubert jumped into the blaze.

Hubert’s knee struck Heidrun’s ribs. _“Oof!”_

She fell back under Hubert’s weight. His offhand clawed into her shoulder, the other ready to strike, blade first. Heidrun caught his wrist in both hands, stopping the knife just short of piercing her flesh.

They hit the ground, Heidrun pinned beneath her brother. “You traitor!” he growled, teeth flashing like the blade in his hand.

The fire around them had all but burned out. It crackled in the distance, spreading, consuming the rest of the forest. But here, in the eye of the storm, it had left only ash.

Ash tangled in what was left of Heidrun’s hair, colored Hubert’s face as it twisted in scorn. Hubert threw all of his weight into his blade, trying to push through Heidrun’s hold. But even flame scarred, she pushed him back. She had always been the strongest of her siblings.

She scrabbled against the ground. She braced her heels against the forest floor, but they only slid through the ash.

“Get off of me!” Heidrun demanded, knees knocking into Hubert’s thighs.

He nimbly avoided her, hovering over her body like a ghost. “You sold out your charge!”

Heidrun stared up into the gaunt, weathered face of her younger brother and _growled._ “I have no charge!”

Hubert dropped the knife, his offhand darting to his belt. Heidrun surged up to headbutt him. But his long arms kept him out of reach.

“You’re a coward!” Hubert hissed, staring down his nose at her with scorn.

Harsh firelight turned Hubert’s eyes to a dark, gaping maw. It burned in Heidrun’s gut, like the fire that had swallowed her whole, that Hubert carried in his veins. He was a _child._

“I’m _alive!”_ Heidrun hissed and raked her gauntlets across Hubert’s cheek.

He lurched backward, his face slipping from her reach. She kept her hand on his neck, pushing him back. He paid no mind to the ravine Heidrun’s gauntlets dug into his face or her claws tickling the base of his skull.. She wasn’t strong enough to choke him with one hand or push him off with his full weight bearing down. She could only tug uselessly at his matted hair.

Blood beaded along Hubert’s temple as wild eyes followed Heidrun’s every movement. Suddenly, Hubert drew another knife from his waist. In one fluid motion, he drove it into her side. He threw his whole body into the attack, using gravity to find his mark. Leather gave way to steel. Metal scraped against metal, as her chainmail stopped the knife short of her skin.

He pulled back, readying for one more strike. Fire burned his eye. He leered over her, face close enough that she could feel his breath on her skin. Flame flickered across his face. The cruel twist of his lips could almost be mistaken for a smile.

He was going to _kill_ her. This was no childhood game. If she didn’t stop him, he would gut her without hesitation. She hadn’t followed Hubert across half the continent just to die and in an ash scarred forest. She had to stop him. By any means necessary.

Heidrun drove her thumb into the hollow of Hubert’s right eye.

And _pulled._

Hubert screamed.

His knife dropped to the ground. Hubert clutched desperately at his eye, Adrestian red blood seeping through the cracks in his fingers. Hubert pitched forward, tucking his chin to his chest, instinctively protecting his face. He howled through the pain, his heart beating in his eyes, pulsing blood into his palm. There was room for nothing else in his mind, only the blinding pain blooming from within his skull.

Heidrun showed no hesitation.

She shoved Hubert off, using her weight to pin him to the ground. Heidrun’s knees caged his torso. Quickly, she grabbed the rope at her waist. Through the overwhelming pain, Hubert remembered he needed to fight. He thrashed, limbs flailing. Heidrun batted them away like bothersome flies. Without his own weight as an anchor, Hubert’s strength paled in comparison to hers.

He had weakened himself through exhaustion and starvation; now agony clouded his mind. No thought could pierce through the echo of blood in his ears. Heidrun yanked his hand away from his eye, blood smearing across her gauntlets. 

“Do you know,” Heidrun hissed

Hubert pulled back, wrestling for control of his hands. But that fight was one Heidrun would always win.

Heidrun grabbed Hubert’s other arm with similar ease. She smashed his wrists together, uncaring for the _clack_ of bone on bone. With coarse rope on raw skin, she bound them together.

“How hard it is.”

Hubert’s palms pressed together, one tacky with his own blood. Heidrun pulled the rope tight, burning his wrists. Heidrun held the rope taut as she moved to his ankles.

“To keep you alive?”

Blood poured from Hubert’s eye, trickling down into his mouth, a red river winding to the sea. He pulled against his restraints, trying to wipe it away. Heidrun yanked him down, rope cutting into his skin.

His blood tasted of copper and salt.

 _“Especially.”_ Heidrun’s voice rumbled in Hubert’s chest like the roar of blood in his ears.

Hubert kicked, his foot lashing wildly at Heidrun’s throat. She simply took the blow, grabbing Hubert’s calf. Against her strength, Hubert couldn’t move, no matter how hard he pulled. Forcibly, she bent his knee, binding his legs so that his ankles dug into the back of his thighs.

“When you make yourself a nuisance?” Heidrun spat, meeting Hubert’s bloodied gaze with her own.

Bound as he was, Hubert couldn’t move without rope rubbing him raw. Heidrun had bent his body into a fetal position, hands and knees pinned to his chest. The rope shackled any remaining power. With his hands bound, he couldn’t properly draw the sigils for a spell. He had to bow his back, shoulders hunched, just to give his skin a reprieve from the slice of rope. His fingertips purpled, needles prickling his palms.

He couldn’t slide his hands through the knots, he couldn’t break through the thread. Blood pooled in his open mouth like rainwater. He could only lay back, hands and feet going numb as he drowned in his own blood.

“I never wanted your help!” Hubert growled.

With every word from Hubert’s blood-painted lips, red stars spattered across Heidrun’s nose.

“No.” Burns covered half Heidrun’s body, skin a tender, bloody red, one eye swollen shut. But still the dark of her eye shone with resolve. “You’ll just have to suffer through it all the same.”

She sat back, confident that Hubert’s bindings would hold. Her eye never left Hubert’s as she put two fingers to her mouth and whistled. It cut through the din of the forest and the still raging fire, loud and shrill. Somewhere overhead, powerful, leathery wings beat against the sky.

Hubert had come so far, had endured as much pain and stress as his body could handle. And it was to end here, in bloodied ash. Heidrun had betrayed everything Hubert stood for, everything he had chosen to protect. She had kept Hubert from following Edelgard all those years ago, had sent Adelaide to her death, and once again, she stood between Hubert and his lady.

Everyone Hubert had sworn himself to, Heidrun had sent to the gallows.

Hubert’s eye pierced Heidrun’s armor, vision red with blood. “I’ll _kill_ you,” he promised.

A wyvern landed at her side, its guttural roar shaking the ground. Heidrun didn’t spare it a single glance. She fisted a hand in Hubert’s dirty, sweat-stained shirt and hauled him up by his collar.

She leaned into Hubert’s face, so close her canines threatened to tear his flesh. “Then kill me,” she challenged. “But _survive.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning: hubert gets his eye pulled out no im not kidding


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another trigger warning at the end

Heidrun threw him over the back of her wyvern, Jasper like a sack of potatoes, then took off. Unable to move, Hubert was forced to stare at the ground, drifting further and further away as Jasper lifted into the air. Eventually, the ground disappeared beneath the cover of fog. Heidrun turned Jasper south and spurred him on.

Hubert had never flown before. He’d always watched the pegasus knights with envy as they flew through Enbarr’s skies. They made a breathtaking sight against the backdrop of the setting sun, gold lighting on ivory wings. Ever since Edelgard fled, Hubert had imagined stealing one of the pegasus flying after her. He would find her and they would soar into the sunset on the wings of eagles.

Of course, reality was hardly so simple. First of all, pegasus were notoriously picky with their riders. It often took weeks of bonding before a pegasus would let most people ride. Second, the pegasus were very valuable creatures and therefore well guarded. Stealing one would be no easy task, even for someone raised on subterfuge as Hubert. Finally, pegasus were rare. Many commoners could go their whole lives without encountering one. A pegasus traveling across the continent would attract far too much attention.

Even still, it had been a nice dream.

Until now.

Jasper flew at a breakneck pace. Or at least, that’s how it felt to Hubert. Thrown over the pommel of Heidrun’s saddle, Hubert was crudely strapped to the wyvern’s back. He did not have any proper way to balance himself. Hands tied as they were, he could only wriggle helplessly and hope that shifted him the direction he wanted. He would teeter precariously over Jasper’s back, unable to properly right himself. Just as he felt himself start to slip Heidrun would grab his bindings and wrench him back.

The ground shifted from the fogs of Magdred Way back to the rocky mountains of Oghma. In some ways, Hubert preferred to see the ground. It helped to settle his vertigo, the feeling that down was up and up was down. But it also made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end, knowing just how far away ground was and how likely survival was if he fell.

The ground rose and fell as Jasper flew over the mountains of Oghma. Hubert recognized some of the paths as ones he and Brown had walked together. They seemed so much shorter now, faded from Hubert’s sight in seconds. Terrain that had sapped the reserves of Hubert’s energy and devoured all the warmth from his skin passed in a single beat of Jasper’s wings.

Rocky mountain peaks breezed past Hubert’s face, so close they nearly scraped his nose. Far, far below, the mountainside spilled into the valleys Hubert had crossed. Never in his life had solid ground lay so far from his reach. Until now, the highest Hubert had ever stood was the palace rooftop, perched on stone wings as he surveyed the city. People milled through the streets, no bigger than the wooden figures sold in the market.

Heidrun flew much, much higher. Leathery wings soared on invisible gales and cut through the skies like the edge of a dagger. At this height, the air cooled. Heidrun pulled a mask over her nose to protect her face. Hubert was offered no such comfort; howling winds beat against peeled skin.

They soared over the tops of mountains, held aloft by the beat of Jasper’s wings. Power thrummed in the wyvern’s veins, a child of ancient dragons. Hubert’s body laid against impenetrable scale, cords of thick muscle rippling beneath. Jasper could easily kill them both, either simply toss them to the ground or overpower them with gnashing teeth. Yet, Heidrun sat upon a beast’s back and bent him to her will.

If Hubert strained against his bindings, he only succeeded in rubbing his wrists raw. The rope was pulled tight, leaving no room for movement. His fingers began to go numb. Needles pricked his fingertips, similar to the burn of a fireball in his hands.

The mountains gave way to the sparse fields of Varley before Hubert’s eye. Rock turned into dry grass, mountainside giving way to deep, earthen craters. Tiny specks of men toiled in the mines, digging at the ground with pickaxes no bigger than a nail. They were ants marching over lines in the sand, toiling their lives away on their hills, but never seeing the mountains.

Plains, mountains, and rivers bled together before Hubert’s eye. Dark spots danced at the edge of his vision, exhaustion and blood loss clawing into his mind. He slipped off Jasper’s back, out of Heidrun’s grasp and fell, fell, fell.

A fog covered the imperial gardens, where Hubert sat at Edelgard’s favorite tea table. He could hear the fountain to the right, encircled by Edelgard’s favorite red carnations. But no matter how far he turned his head, they always lurked in his blindspot, obscured by the bridge of his nose.

“You’ll get used to it.”

Hubert whirled to face the seat across from him, where Caleb poured tea. Fingerbones wrapped around the teapot where flesh had been torn away. Caleb’s right side faced Hubert, hale and whole saved for the void of his eye. But Caleb turned to pass a cup of tea across the table and revealed his torn open smile.

Caleb grinned and Hubert could see the muscles in the open side of his mouth pulling skin that wasn’t there. “At least you still have one.” He gestured at the sockets of his eyes.

Numbly, Hubert took the tea. “Thank you.”

Caleb sipped from his cup, red tea slipping through his teeth and down his chin. “That was a bold move.”

“It failed.” Hubert stared into his cup, the liquid sloshing over white porcelain, painting it red. “Just like everything else I’ve tried.”

Caleb laughed darkly, muscles rattling in his throat. “I suppose that makes us a couple of failures, doesn’t it?”

Hubert placed his head in his hands, fingers tangling in his hair. “What more can I do? What am I missing? Why does everything I try end like this?”

“Perhaps it is simply the will of the Goddess.”

“Damn your Goddess!” Hubert screamed, tearing at his scalp. “What has She ever done for us? What grace has She given that She has not taken away?”

His scream broke the stillness of the gardens. The mist closed in, the edges of Hubert’s consciousness bleeding into the fog. Across from him, the razor’s edge of Caleb’s teeth sharpened, the bloody voids of his eyes swallowing the light.

Caleb tented his fingers on the table, bone grinding against bone, and rested his chin on white ivory fingers. “Do you intend to give up?”

“My life belongs to Lady Edelgard.” Hubert grit his teeth. “As long as there is life left in me, I will live it for her.”

Even without eyes, Caleb’s stare pierced Hubert’s soul. “And what good is  _ your  _ life? When you have failed time and time again?

Hubert looked up, meeting the mockery of his brother’s face. “As long as I have my life, I will fail as many times as it takes to bring me back to her side.”

The abyss of Caleb’s eyes gleamed, his lips quirking into a half-formed smile. “I’ll drink to that.” He raised his cup in salute.

Hubert did the same. He touched the cup to his lips, breathing in through his nose. The tea smelled of copper and ash. He held his breath, knocked it back—and drowned in a cup of his own blood.

Someone wrenched Hubert out of his seat and back to consciousness. Heidrun threw him to the ground, his bindings cut from Jasper’s back. Hands and feet still bound, Hubert couldn’t brace himself. He drove face first through the dirt. He groaned, head spinning. Despite laying on the ground, he still felt himself falling.

A series of gasps and shuffling feet signalled the presence of others. Hubert tried to lift his head toward the sound, but a wave of dizziness sent him sprawling into the dirt.

“Get a healer!” Heidrun barked, one arm propped against Jasper’s side.

None of the stablehands moved, staring in stunned silence at the two heavily injured people that had crashed into the courtyard.

Heidrun bared her teeth. “What did I say? Get moving!” This time two of the stablehands scattered, running towards the palace.

“Lady Vestra.” One of the servants stepped forward, approaching Heidrun as one would a wild animal. “What happened?”

Hubert groaned, dirt packing into the wounds on his face. Heidrun spared him a glance, lip curling back over her canines.

“It’s none of your concern.” She tossed her wyvern’s reins to the maid. “Ensure Jasper is tended to properly.”

The servant nodded, waving over one of the other stablehands to manage Heidrun’s unruly wyvern. Jasper gnashed at the bit, wings open, threatening to fly away. Heidrun ignored them, instead walking to Hubert’s side. She placed her boot firmly in the middle of his back, as if there was any chance of him crawling away.

At every groan, she jabbed her heel into Hubert’s ribs. It was only a handful of minutes before one of the stablehands returned with two priestesses and a stretcher trailing behind him. Immediately, one of the priestesses kneeled by Hubert’s side, pouring white magic into his injuries.

Hubert jumped as unfamiliar Faith knit his skin back together. Vines of magic spread beneath his skin, blooming over his injuries like the first budding flowers of spring. It closed the scratches on his face, smoothed the burns on his wrists, and sealed the open wound inside his skull.

The other priestess did the same for Heidrun. Red, swollen blisters faded back into smooth skin. Flesh that had sloughed off in the struggle reformed of Heidrun’s cheek. The line of scarring remained, her hair still burnt on one side. But for all intents and purposes, it appeared as if Hubert’s attack had happened months ago, not hours.

The swelling gone, Heidrun finally opened her injured eye. It was hale and healthy, the same piercing black it had always been. The same could not be said of Hubert. Though his physical wounds were gone, it did nothing for the blood he’d already lost, or the sleep and food he’d sacrificed. One priestess helped lift Hubert onto the stretcher, while the other reached for Heidrun’s arm.

Heidrun shrugged her off. “That’s enough,” she snapped.

The priestess hesitated. “You’re injured. Let us help both of you to the infirmary.”

“That won’t be necessary.” Heidrun leveled the priestess with a commander’s gaze. “Take him to Nerium Manor. You’ll treat him there.”

The priestess blinked. “Lady Vestra, your brother will receive much better care in the infirmary—”

“Do you think I care?” Heidrun snarled, canines flashing in the sun. “My  _ brother _ is a prisoner and he is under house arrest until further notice.”

Both priestesses stared at her with gaping mouths. Heidrun was no longer the child guided by her father’s hand. She stood before them; the sun at her back carved the sharp silhouette of a warrior into the ground. Cunning and merciless, she would cut down anyone in her way.

Heidrun was a Vestra through and through.

“Do  _ not _ argue with me. Move!” Heidrun ordered.

The priestesses hurried to grab the stretcher and lifted Hubert off the ground. They rushed to Nerium Manor, Heidrun’s steady gate nipping at their heels. As they approached, Heidrun saw Isolde standing at the door, the missing stablehand beside her.

Heidrun cursed just as her mother saw them. “Heidrun! Hubert!” Isolde cried, picking up her skirt to rush forward, heels clicking on the stone path leading to the manor.

Heidrun tried to brush past her. “Mother, not now,” she snapped.

But Heidrun’s words fell on deaf ears, Isolde’s hands reaching out to cradle her daughter’s face. Heidrun sighed through her nose. She chose not to duck from Isolde’s grasp. Hopefully, if she suffered through this, it would be over quickly.

Isolde traced the dark scarring on Heidrun’s cheek with a shattered gasp. “Oh, Heidi, my darling, what happened?”

Heidrun stood stalwart against the tears glistening in Isolde’s eyes. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

Isolde’s hands shook on Heidrun’s face. “Fine?” Isolde asked incredulously. “You are not—!”

Isolde let her hands fall with a broken sigh. Her eyes looked to Hubert, so fragile and vulnerable in his delirium. It had hardly been a week since she’d seen her youngest son and yet Heidrun had returned him to her entirely changed. Dark circles shadowed his eyes, his cheeks gaunt and sallow where before they’d been healthy and full.

“I have already lost one child,” Isolde said with a shaky voice. “I ask that you do not make me lose another.”

“That’s not your choice to make,” Heidrun snapped.

Isolde’s jaw steeled, the veneer of calm she always wore beginning to crack. “You and your father… none of you will listen to sense.”

She turned from Heidrun, kneeling at Hubert’s side. She looked down at her broken, sleeping boy. His clothes were torn and dirty, the skin on his face red and patchy. No doubt, he needed a long bath and a warm meal. But he was  _ home. _

A gentle smile broke through her tears.

Tenderly, she brushed his greasy, matted bangs back from his face. “It’s all right Hubie. You’re safe, now.”

His mother’s voice broke through his dream, drawing him back to consciousness. Groggily, Hubert opened both his eyes.

“Mother?”

Isolde covered her mouth, turning away from her son’s face. Bile climbed in her throat, as she fought the urge to vomit. She squeezed her eyes shut, slowly breathing through her nose. The nausea abated and she turned back to Hubert, asleep once more.

“Heidi,” Isolde rasped. “What have you  _ done?” _

Heidrun fisted her hands, gauntlets spattered with her brother’s blood. “I brought him  _ home.” _

* * *

They locked Hubert in his room, laid up on his bed under a healer’s watchful eye. Every healing spell was a minor miracle, pulled forth by a faithful hand. But even magic could only do so much. Magic could not regrow that which was lost no more than it could bring the dead back to life.

Two priests held Hubert down while another burned away the useless ligaments in his empty eye. Threads of Faith unspooled in his veins, suturing old wounds closed, trimming the excess. When it was done, they bandaged Hubert’s eye and gave him orders to rest.

For once, Hubert heeded their instructions. He slept through the entirety of his first three days in imprisonment. He only woke for brief meals before falling back into his bed. His escape and struggle with Heidrun had sapped nearly all of his strength. He had stretched himself to his limits, ignorant of how much it taxed his body. Now he paid the price.

Heidrun had left soon after dropping Hubert in the foyer of Nerium Manor. That left him in the care of their father. By Arvid’s orders, Hubert was to be kept under close supervision. Most of the time Isolde watched over him and when she needed to rest, she simply locked him in his room. Very rarely, Arvid himself stopped by to watch his son with clouded eyes.

Effectively, Hubert was under house arrest until Arvid released him.

His last effort to return to Edelgard had failed and now he was under house arrest, unable to escape. He would bear the scars of his journey to Fhirdiad for the rest of his life, yet had nothing to show for it. But Hubert couldn’t even think of all he’d lost. He could only sleep, eat, and sleep some more like the animal he’d been reduced to.

Slowly, his strength returned. Hubert could sit up in bed without succumbing to exhaustion. He spent his time working on practice ciphers, testing his mental acuity, ensuring he didn’t lose himself. When his hands were dextrous enough, he ran through some knife drills. Even confined to his bed, his goal so far from his reach, he had to keep himself sharp. One day, he would have another chance. When it came, he needed to be prepared to take it.

On his fifth day of rest, knuckles gently rapped against his door. “Hubert,” Isolde called.

Hubert sighed, setting down the practice cipher on his bedside table. “Yes?”

“You have a letter.”

Hubert frowned. Who could possibly wish to send him a letter? Of that precious handful of people, who could not simply come see him in person? It wasn’t as if Hubert had  _ friends. _ Of the few people counted among Hubert’s friends, which of them were free to send him letters?

“Alright?” Hubert called warily. “Bring it in.”

The door unlocked and swung open at the press of Isolde’s hand. She entered, a letter held in one hand beneath a crown of white peonies.

Hubert narrowed his eyes at the wreath of peonies. “What is  _ that?” _

“A gift,” Isolde said with a knowing smile.

She placed the letter on his nightstand alongside the flower. Hubert stared at them with a furrowed brow. The peonies drew his eye, white and untouched like the first fall of snow. They were constructed with the same love and care as the flower garlands Adelaide used to make. But Adelaide was gone.

“Do you need anything?” Isolde asked, hand gently clasped to her chest.

Hubert waved her off. “I’m fine,” he said dismissively.

Isolde’s face fell, like a bird struck down mid-flight. She left, the door locking gently behind her, and Hubert’s eye never left the peonies. He couldn’t tear his eye away even if he wanted to. He was seven years old again, sitting in Adelaide’s grove, watching her deft fingers weave a crown of roses.

It felt like ages ago that Adelaide had been taken. But in truth, it had only been a week. Time moved so quickly these days. Hubert could only struggle to hold onto memories that slipped through his fingers like water. If Adelaide still lived, wherever she was, did she think of him?

Hesitantly, Hubert brushed the flower’s aside and picked up the crisp letter beneath it. He glanced at the writing on its face. His own name looked back at him, scribed in elegant swirls and excessive ornamentation. Immediately, he knew who it was from.

“Aegir,” Hubert grumbled, rolling his eye.

On the letter’s opposite side, the crest of Cichol was pressed into red wax. Part of Hubert wanted to throw the letter in the fire. There was nothing Ferdinand could possibly have to say that was worth Hubert’s time. Hubert’s hand burned with the tingle of oncoming flame. His bones crackled, kindling ready to set alight.

Hubert exhaled slowly, his anger dissipating as smoke. Even if it was nothing worthwhile, there was no point in destroying it. Hubert slipped the knife from his sleeve and slid it beneath the wax. He took care to keep the seal intact. Having an unbroken seal of Cichol could prove useful one day.

Hardened wax lifted from vellum, whole and unbroken. Hubert’s mouth curled into a satisfied smirk as he placed the seal on his nightstand. Carefully, he unfolded the letter from the parchment. It was short, which Hubert was thankful for. Hubert had expected to find the letter so filled with ink that its contents would be illegible. While Ferdinand liked to waste his breath, he wasn’t one to waste fine paper.

But instead, the contents simply read:

> _ Hubert von Vestra, _
> 
> _ How are you faring? I am in good health. The palace has been different ever since Lady Adelaide left for Hevring. _

Hubert’s hand clenched on the letter, nearly tearing through the page.

> _ I know the two of you were close and that her departure has been difficult for you. My duties have kept me occupied, but I am here for you should you require it. _
> 
> _ I hear you are recovering from a medical procedure. I am not aware of the details, but I pray for your smooth recovery.  _ _ We have lost so many of our peers. I do not want to see you among their number. _
> 
> _ Please accept this gift from me. I suspect you are not much for blossoms, but I hope they brighten your room nonetheless. I would appreciate a response when you are able. _
> 
> _ Sincerely, _
> 
> _ Ferdinand von Aegir _

Hubert folded the letter back into its envelope and set it aside. Carefully, he picked up the flowers. White peonies formed a perfect crown. Its construction was perfect, not a single bloom out of place. Hubert could almost imagine the care and dedication poured into this gift. It was a far cry from the misshapen garland Ferdinand had laid on Caleb’s grave.

Hubert ran his thumb over the face of one of the petals. It was a pure, snowy white against his ashen skin. The petals were still soft and supple, not yet tarnished by time. Ferdinand must have picked them that morning and spent the day weaving them together, the way Adelaide had shown him.

Hubert ripped a petal off. It fluttered to the floor like falling snow. “Kill him…”

Hubert pulled off another. “Spare him…” It caught in his bedsheets.

Hubert pulled petal after petal off the crown in his hands. “Kill him… Spare him…”

When he finished with one flower, he moved onto the next. A cascade of flower petals surrounded him, spilling off his bed and onto the floor. He continued until he reached the last petal and he held nothing but a crown of stems in his hands.

Hubert tore the last petal from its crown. “Spare him.”

He held the last petal on his finger, staring daggers at it with his one good eye. He curled his hand into a fist and crushed it in his palm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more eye stuff


	13. Chapter 13

Isolde smiled at Hubert over cinnamon tea. It was the seventh day of Hubert’s recovery and Isolde allowed him to explore the manor once again. Hubert was still effectively under house arrest, even if his bonds had been slackened. Hubert knew a number of secret passages out of the manor, but none that would serve him under such close watch. Besides, he had nowhere to go. He could only practice ciphers, run through knife drills to keep his skills sharp, and bide his time.

“How do you feel?” Isolde asked.

Hubert shrugged, sipping his tea. His eye was still bandaged and would be for another week. Every day the pain lessened and a little bit more of Hubert’s strength returned. Sleep and warm food had begun to repair the damage Hubert had done to his body. His face still cut a sharp, gaunt silhouette, his cheekbones sharpened like the point of a dagger. But his head no longer spun every time he stood and blisters no longer ached between his toes at every step.

“I feel as good as can be expected,” Hubert said vaguely.

Isolde’s gentle smile remained, even as her eyes dimmed. “Well. I am glad for that.” Idly, she smoothed her hands over the tablecloth.

“Where’s Heidrun?” Hubert asked sharply.

Isolde froze. She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it again. “You know that even if I knew, I couldn’t tell you.” She refused to meet Hubert’s eyes.

Hubert watched his mother’s face with piercing eyes. He tracked every twitch of her brow, every time her eyes darted to the door. Of course Hubert knew she wouldn’t tell him. He’d hoped to glean more from her answer.

At the very least, it seemed Isolde  _ truly _ didn’t know where Heidrun ran off to. It was a grim mockery of all the times Hubert had gone to his mother as a child. When Heidrun picked on him or played too rough he would tell his mother. Isolde would dole out a harsh but fair punishment, and all would be right with the world. His mother kept him safe.

This was a grim mockery of those peaceful days.

Hubert’s ire sparked inside him, fire tingling in his palms. How could his mother simply sit by while her children tore each other apart? How could she side with Arvid and Heidrun through inaction, yet still claim to care for her only living son?

Hubert stared into the depths of his tea. “That’s it then?”

Isolde blinked at him, her face a calm mask. “Hubert,” she warned.

Hubert’s voice crackled in his throat, kindling burst into flame. “You’re just going to let her leave?”

Isolde’s sharp jaw steeled, eyes flashing like steel in shadow. “Where did you get the impression that I  _ let _ her do anything?” she bit darkly. “Any of you, for that matter.”

“You certainly aren’t trying to stop her.” The force in Hubert’s words tore at his throat.

“And you think that means I never have?” Isolde’s hands shook on her teacup, knuckles turned white above her wedding ring. “That I have not waged this war a hundred times? I have  _ tried _ to stop her.”

Clearly, it hadn’t been enough. When it stopped being enough, Isolde should have ended it, cut the strings on the life she gave.

“You should try harder.”

Isolde’s eyes turned to the heavens. “I have tried to stop  _ all _ of you. And yet you are determined to make martyrs of yourselves.” Her jaw quivered, even as she sealed it shut.

Hubert’s eye burned a hole into his mother’s face. “Do  _ not _ compare me to them.”

“To me, you are the same.”

Hubert’s fingertips coughed smoke as fire simmered beneath his skin. They were  _ not _ the same. A burning coal lay in the hollow of his missing eye, ready to ignite. His body was ready to burn and he needed only a spark.

Hubert snarled “I am  _ loyal.”  _ He stood, towering over his mother.

“For what, Hubert?” Isolde didn’t back down, meeting the glimmer of flame in Hubert’s eye. “When I am left standing on your graves, do you think it matters what you died for?”

He burst like a powder keg.

“Coward!” Hubert’s burning hands slammed against the table, scorching the wood. “At least the rest of us  _ stand _ for something!”

“I told you, Hubert!” Isolde stood abruptly, ignoring the flame. “My duty is to you and Heidrun, no one else!”

“Choose!” Hubert demanded. “You cannot serve us both!”

Isolde’s face crumpled inward, a funeral pyre collapsing under its own weight. “This is not the life I wanted for you.”

“Yet it’s the one you gave us all the same!” The flames curled around Hubert’s fingertips dimmed. “What you wanted doesn’t—”

_ Slam! _

The door to Nerium Manor burst open. Both Hubert and Isolde jumped, attention immediately turning to the door. They both rushed to it, peering out into the foyer. A flustered servant crouched in the entryway, hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. One of House Vestra’s maids blocked his path deeper into the manor.

“W-where is… Lord… Hubert?” the servant gasped.

“He is—”

“Here,” Hubert called as he stepped out from the dining room, Isolde at his heels.

The servant glanced up, face red with exertion. “Good, good. I ran here as fast as I could…”

Isolde eyed the unknown servant warily. He wore the same uniform as the palace servants. But they were many, and rarely dealt in House Vestra’s affairs. It was rather strange for one of Hresvelg’s attendants to end up in Nerium Manor, much less so exhausted.

“What could possibly be so urgent?” Isolde asked.

“The young princess—” he gasped.

Hubert stepped forward, every nerve in his body aflame. “What?”

“Lady Edelgard has returned!”

Isolde stared at the servant, struck speechless. “That’s…” she stumbled over her words. “That’s nonsense!”

It wouldn’t be the first time someone claimed to have seen Edelgard. As of yet, Hubert found all the sightings to be baseless rumors.

“I saw her myself!” the servant insisted. “His Majesty Emperor Ionius IX is receiving her in the throne room as we speak!”

Not another word needed to be said. Hubert was already running.

“Hubert!” Isolde cried.

Isolde grasped at the back of Hubert’s shirt. But she had never matched Arvid’s speed or dexterity, and neither did she match her son’s. When she closed her fist, she found nothing but air. Hubert ducked out of her grasp and barreled towards the door, ignoring the surprised servants.

“Stop him!” she ordered.

But Hubert was already out the door. A fine limestone path cut from Nerium Manor to the palace. Hubert had walked this path many times, every day of his childhood spent at Edelgard’s side. He let his memory guide him now. His long legs beat against it now, straining after days of rest. Only one thought took residence in Hubert’s mind: Edelgard was  _ here. _

The scabbed over blisters on Hubert’s feet burned, just like the lungs straining in his chest. Running with only half his vision scrambled his mind. His brain tried to match what he saw with his memory and spun when the pieces didn’t fit.

But Hubert pushed through, letting his legs guide him along the path he’d walked so many times as a child. He stumbled and lilted to the side, still weak and recovering from his injuries. But even if his mind was hazy, his body knew the way. The halls of the palace blurred before his eye, his feet pounding on stone.

Nothing mattered, except Edelgard.

One of the ornate, gilded doors leading to the throne room appeared in front of him. He burst through without a second thought.

Inside, a crowd of people waited. All eyes turned to Hubert as the door slammed open. Emperor Ionius sat on his throne, the Prime Minister at his left and Hubert’s father at his right. Hubert paid them little mind. He turned his attention to the pair in front of the throne.

A tall, severe-faced man glared daggers at Hubert. Volkard von Arundel. And at his side, brown hair tied with purple ribbon stood…

“Lady Edelgard!” Hubert gasped.

Edelgard had grown  _ so much _ in the time they’d been apart. She stood taller, hair and limbs longer. She wore it differently now, not in the same braids Adelaide would weave into her hair. Her eyes held all the years’ worth of stories that Hubert had missed.

Edelgard’s eyes widened, those same amethyst eyes Hubert had seen so many times in his dreams. “Hubert!”

It was  _ her. _ It was really  _ her.  _ After all these  _ years. _

Hubert ran to her. Edelgard watched him, eyes brimming with hope as she dared to move a step closer. Arvid took stepped forward, dark energy crackling in his palm. Wordlessly, he waved his hand and all of Hubert’s muscles locked into place.

The hope in Edelgard’s eyes turned to fear. “Hubert!” she cried again, laced with panic.

Arundel placed a hand on her shoulder, fingers curling into her flesh like talons. Edelgard hesitated, glancing at her uncle. Arundel’s eyes leveled her with a dark warning. Edelgard’s gaze fell to the floor. When Arundel released his hold, Edelgard didn’t move a muscle.

“You are not supposed to be here, Hubert,” Arvid said darkly.

The muscles in Hubert’s throat pulled against an invisible web. Never before had he felt his father’s magic. Dark spiders skittered over every inch of Hubert’s skin, spinning arcane silk to bind him. They encased every muscle in a maze of webbing, bound to each other until not a single one could move. Desperately, Hubert tried to form words that wouldn’t come. But even his voice box was encased in silk.

Edelgard stood mere  _ feet _ away. No one had any right to keep Hubert from her; not after he had fought so long and with every fiber of his being just to see her again. Even after all his failures, she was  _ here,  _ just out of reach. The wait had been  _ agonizing  _ and he could not stand to wait another moment.

But Arvid stood between Hubert and Edelgard. Unable to move his eye, all Hubert could see was his father’s face. Fury colored Arvid’s ashen cheeks as he stared down his nose at his only son. For the first time, Hubert felt the true extent of his father’s power.

Arvid’s eyes burned with cold fury as he interrupted Hubert’s gaze. “You are under  _ arrest _ Hubert. You were to stay with your  _ mother.” _

Hubert had created fire from his will and thought that an accomplishment. But Arvid’s magic was something else entirely. A dark, ancient power bound Hubert’s limbs. A mere child like Hubert never stood a chance.

With one curt gesture, Arvid summoned a guard to take Hubert away. Roswitha and Bastian stepped out from beside the throne. Unceremoniously, Roswitha grabbed Hubert’s torso, while the Bastian took hold of his legs.

They began to drag him from the throne room. Hubert’s frozen body could do nothing to stop it. No matter how he willed the tendons in his hands to flex or the muscles in his leg to strike, nothing would respond. He need only curl back his long fingers and grasp the dagger in his sleeve, yet they hung limply at the wrist. His father’s magic dampened his voice; he could not even growl at his captors.

“Don’t hurt him!” Edelgard cried.

Her defeated voice only made Hubert struggle harder, fruitless as it was. He had sworn to never cause Edelgard the pain that sang through her words. But no devotion could fight the dark magic seizing his limbs.

Arundel’s claws dug into Edelgard’s flesh. “He will be unharmed.” Every word Arundel spoke sounded like a lie. “But if he remains, he will no doubt cause a scene.”

Edelgard hesitated, eyes lingering on Hubert for a second longer. But she nodded and tore herself away. In the end, she had no other choice. Even if he caused her sorrow, Hubert could at least be grateful that Edelgard did not try to throw herself on the pyre.

The door swung open as the guards prepared to carry him through it. Suddenly, Hubert realized if they carried him through, if that door closed… then Edelgard would disappear from his sight. The last time he had lost sight of her, she had disappeared from his life for three years. He’d slowly watched as the life he’d known fell to pieces. If he lost sight of her now, when would he see her again? Would it be another three years?

Hubert strained against his bonds, muscles burning even as they refused to move. He couldn’t talk, or form words. When he tried all that escaped was a monotone scream. So he screamed, as loud as he could. His voice box rattled in his throat, burning his throat raw.

But the guards still carried him off and Edelgard still disappeared behind ornate oak. Hubert continued screaming, even as it shredded his throat. Slowly, his silk binding unspooled, the chains slackened. It started in the twitch of his fingers, as he curled his hands into fists.

He made a half-hearted attempt to unsheathe his dagger. But Roswitha knew his tricks and her hold pinned his arms to his sides. He couldn’t trace the sigil needed for a fire spell. Similarly, Bastian held his legs such that he had no purchase to kick out. By the time he regained enough control over his body, any tactics he knew had been effectively countered. These guards knew him, his  _ father _ knew him. Hubert was out of tricks.

They carried Hubert to the tea room nearest to the throne. Once through the door, they unceremoniously dropped him to the ground. Hubert’s head cracked against the floor, cushioned by Dagdan carpet.

“Hold him down,” Roswitha ordered.

Bastian did as ordered, straddling Hubert’s torso and pinning his arms to the ground. Roswitha set to work pulling off Hubert’s boots. She didn’t bother with the laces, simply cutting through them with a knife. Hubert kicked out at her, as expected. She caught his heel in her hand and yanked the leather from Hubert’s foot. She nearly twisted his ankle in the process. Inside Hubert’s right boot rested the knife she’d known was there.

After that, she cut open Hubert’s sleeve. Hubert scratched at Roswitha’s hand, and only succeeded in nicking his wrist on the point of her blade. Roswitha ignored the blood, solely focused on removing the knife sheathed to Hubert’s arm. She tossed it to the ground and cut Hubert’s other sleeve for good measure.

Roswitha stood. “Check his belt.” She eyed Hubert carefully. “Then bind his hands.”

They found one more knife tucked in Hubert’s belt and added it to the pile. Quickly, they bound his hands together with manacles, just as Heidrun had when she dragged Hubert home. Hubert struggled, but disarmed he had few options. Eventually, he was left bound and defenseless.

“Return to the Emperor,” Roswitha ordered. “I can take it from here.”

Bastian left, leaving only Roswitha and Hubert prone. Roswitha acted as if Hubert didn’t exist, but the eye she kept turned towards him gave her away. He had caused Roswitha too much grief for her to let down her guard.

Hubert finally pulled himself to a sitting position, his wrists aching where manacles cut into his skin. It had only been a week before that rope burned away the skin on his wrists as he watched the world bleed before his eyes. No matter how he tried, how many different ways, Hubert found himself here again and again.

Only a handful of doors lay between him and Edelgard, yet he couldn’t go to her. Chains bound him to inaction. Hubert curled in on himself, head hanging between his knees. The same guard that kept him from Adelaide’s side stood stalwart and kept him from Edelgard now.

Time marched forward, yet nothing ever changed. With every cycle of the seasons, every rise and fall of the sun, history repeated itself. Hubert rebuilt from the ash only to catch fire once more. Everything moved in circles, an unbreakable chain like the ones binding Hubert’s wrists.

Time passed, minutes ticking by in unending circles. The door slammed open. Arvid von Vestra burst into the room, footsteps sharp on the stone floor. He marched towards his son with a soldier’s resolve, ready to strike a killing blow.

“No matter how many chances you are given…” Arvid’s eyes smoldered with green flame, a brand on Hubert’s cheek. “You  _ continue  _ to be a thorn in my side.”

Hubert rose to a stand, chin lifted high.

Hubert met his father’s cold fury with his own, the same fire ever burning in Hubert’s eyes.  _ “You  _ trained me,” he spat.

That fire flickered in Arvid’s eyes; for a moment, it almost cast a glow of pride. But he smothered it in an instant and only his fury remained. The unhinged jaw of his hand darted out, snakelike, and sank its fangs into the meat of Hubert’s upper arm. Under his father’s strength, Hubert was still a child recovering from a week of starvation. Hubert rooted his heels to the stone and Arvid simply dug up the floor.

“Do I need to pull out your other eye before you finally  _ behave?”  _ Arvid pulled Hubert to his side, Hubert’s shoulder straining in its socket.

“Then do it,  _ coward,” _ Hubert hissed, nose to nose with his father.

After thirteen years, Hubert knew his father’s weakness. If Arvid truly wanted him killed, Hubert would already be dead.

Arvid’s pupils blew wide, dilating in his fury. “I am taking you back to the manor where you will  _ stay!” _

He sounded just like Heidrun, bragging about her assured victory. Hubert’s blood boiled, fire scarring his fingertips. He may have lost the fight. He may have lost a hundred different battles. But as long as he still had his life, he could win the war.

“You can’t separate me from Lady Edelgard!” Hubert cried.

When the words left his lips, Hubert knew how childish they sounded. Arvid worked for the enemy. He had cut off Hubert’s movements, ruined his plans time and time again. His father had every reason to keep Hubert from Edelgard’s side. Hubert’s cries would fall on deaf ears.

Even still, Hubert would beg on his hands and knees for even a shred of leniency. He had only just found Edelgard again. Hubert had charted so many maps, spied on so many meetings, thrown hundreds of coins into the void over the last three years. Through it all, Edelgard was the light at the end of his tunnel. He held the promise of their reunion to his chest and it sparked that ever burning fire in his veins.

Finally, she was here. He hadn’t earned it, after the countless times he’d failed her. But she was here all the same. It was Hubert’s duty to keep her safe. He would not let her out of his sight. If she left Enbarr again, if she needed to escape  F ódlan itself, he would go with her.

Arvid’s nails dug into Hubert’s arm like an eagle’s talons. “She is not your charge!” he growled through sharpened teeth.

The rebellious spark inside Hubert yearned to argue. Clearly, after everything that had happened, Edelgard wasn’t safe. Hubert had watched the stars in Adelaide’s eyes dim, until there was nothing inside her but an empty void. He had been unable to stop the future he could see ahead. Knowing that, Edelgard wasn’t safe anywhere in Enbarr.

“You can’t decide that for me!” Hubert shouted back.

The only way to keep her safe was to release her from the clutches of those that would do her harm. Hubert couldn’t do that. Not yet. But at least if he was at her side, he could try. Hubert refused to pick up his feet, forcing his father to drag him every step. Arvid would. He would throw Hubert over his shoulder kicking and screaming if he had to.

Arvid yanked Hubert forward, leaning down into his son’s face. “I already have! Years ago! Learn to know when you’ve already lost!”

In the corner of Hubert’s eye, Roswitha stood at attention, one hand on her blade. Hubert knew his father was right. Hubert was horribly,  _ woefully  _ outmatched and had been since the day Duke Aegir seized power. There was no winning this fight, no matter how much he dug in his heels. Getting himself killed here would do nothing for Edelgard. He needed to survive until his next opportunity.

Hubert relaxed in Arvid’s hold, standing at attention by his father’s side. Arvid didn’t ease his grip, eyes boring through his son’s skin. Just as Hubert knew Arvid’s weakness, Arvid knew Hubert’s tricks. Hubert would not give up so easily. Arvid hadn’t trained him to.

Arvid’s thoughts wandered to Edelgard, the young princess returned. There was more of Ionius in the girl he saw in the throne room than the one Arundel had led out of Enbarr. Not just in the curve of her lips or the shape of her brow, but in how time and hardship had weathered her. Edelgard was younger than Hubert, yet held herself like a soldier.

Arvid had spent his youth at her father’s side and had served him with honor and pride. He had spilled a river of blood to bring his Emperor’s will to fruition. He would have done it a hundred times over, until he and Ionius were the only men left alive. Hubert’s arm relaxed in his grip, but Arvid couldn’t,  _ wouldn’t _ let go.

Everything had changed since then. Arvid had spent too much time arguing with a child. Arvid tugged Hubert to his side and turned his back on the Empire, just as he had all those years ago.

* * *

Edelgard was led to her old room, where the meager luggage she’d brought back from Fhirdiad awaited her. Much like Adelaide before her, she was kept under close supervision. Arundel assured her it was for her own safety, but Edelgard knew better. The promise of safety was an illusion. Edelgard had never once been truly safe.

Bastian stood guard outside the imperial family’s quarters, blocking Edelgard’s exit. She was a wild dog and this empty wing of the palace was her cage. She was one girl, locked inside these rooms meant to hold a family. It had barely changed since the day she’d left.

These rooms held memories of happier days, echoes of a life that no longer belonged to Edelgard. By the window sat Adelaide’s favorite armchair, the bookshelf full of Elric’s favorite stories. If Edelgard closed her eyes, she could hear their laughter, ringing through the halls.

But she saw the husk of Adelaide’s face, the one she’d seen in the depths of Arundel’s dungeon. Adelaide’s bone-thin fingers curled around her own, as Edelgard watched her sister wither away. She would never forget the weight of Adelaide’s hand in hers.

Edelgard opened her eyes. There was no laughter or warmth to greet her. Elric and Adelaide were gone. It was just her now, in a place they’d once called home. Edelgard walked to her former room. She moved, dreamlike, through the haze of memory. Scenes from her old life played out before her eyes.

The fireplace crackled, casting a dull glow over Adelaide’s face as she sat, practicing her needlework with deft fingers. Elric sat nearby, his strategy textbook open over his lap. Even in their silence, their presence filled the hall with life. But Edelgard blinked and they were gone.

Edelgard’s footsteps rang hollow in the silence. Her door creaked like old bones as she entered her childhood room. Cold moonlight spilled in from the window, illuminating Edelgard crimson bed, piled high with a mountain of stuffed animals. Her own face stared back at her from the mirror laid in her vanity, older than the last time she’d walked through this door.

Her favorite bear lay in a place of honor upon her pillow, the same torn-out pages were pinned to the wall, portraits of all the places she wanted to see one day. One page showed Castle Fhirdiad in all its glory, frost-covered stone glistening in the moonlight. Edelgard couldn’t bear to look at it now. Everything was just as she’d left it, the clean-swept floors were the only evidence that anyone had been here in her absence at all.

Slowly, Edelgard set to the task of preparing for bed. She opened her luggage, digging through for her nightclothes. Any of the clothes left in her dresser would be too small now. She pulled out her nightgown, a red silk chemise that her mother had gifted her when they reached Fhirdiad. That was before Anselma had met Lambert and slowly faded out of Edelgard’s life.

She slipped the dress on, then took a seat at her old vanity. In the mirror, her skin was healthy, cheeks rosy with no hint of weariness in her eyes. She should look more haggard, more tired. After everything she’d gone through. She began to braid her hair, the way Adelaide used to every night.

The brush of silk burrowed beneath Edelgard’s flesh, and made its home there. No matter how many times she bathed, she could never free herself from that sickness. Even in exile, Arundel had housed her in a roomy villa, fed her the finest meals Fhirdiad had to offer, and gifted her clothes made by the finest tailors. But it was all an act. She was little more than a doll, dressed up and perfectly posed so that no one could see the cracks in the porcelain. But no amount of luxury nor piece of ill-gotten finery could smother the bone-deep filth that filled her lungs.

Edelgard fumbled with her braid, her fingers uncoordinated. She’d never learned to style her own hair. She’d always had others offer to do it for her, with gentle hands brushing the nape of her neck. Edelgard brushed out her hair in frustration, starting over.

_ Crack! _

Edelgard jumped in her seat. She whirled around, looking for the source of the sound. Her room was empty, save for herself and the drawings on the wall. If anyone had tried to sneak into her chambers, the guard would have seen them. Unless, of course, Duke Aegir himself had decided to do away with her. She waited, listening for any hint of an intruder. When none came, Edelgard turned back to her vanity.

_ Crack! _

Edelgard’s eyes flew to the window.

_ Crack! _

Unmistakably, something tapped against the glass. Hubert’s voice in her ear told her to immediately go to the guard and alert them of the intruder. But the guard couldn’t be trusted. She didn’t want to invite them into her room without reason. Warily, she edged toward the window, peeking out through the curtain.

Far below, winding up to throw another rock at her window, stood a shadow of a boy, an echo of someone Edelgard used to know. Quickly, Edelgard pulled back the curtain and threw open the window. Her eyes darted across the courtyard, looking for a hint of any guards.

“Hubert!” she hissed, just loud enough to reach his ears.

Hubert dropped the stone in his hand, his pinched features relaxing. “Oh good, you heard me.”

His voice was deeper, the edges coarse where they tickled her ears. From this distance, through the darkness, she could only make out his silhouette. His shadow cut sharp angles into the moonlight, crisper and harsher than the boy in her memory. She shook herself from her thoughts. There was no time.

“Of course I heard you!” Edelgard looked around desperately. “And so will any guards nearby!”

“Then you’d best help me up there quickly.” Hubert crossed his arms, his feet taking root in the ground.

The years hadn’t curbed his stubborn streak, it seemed. There would be no getting rid of Hubert until he got what he wanted. She left the window open, rushing out of her room and into Elric’s. Her bare feet padded softly on the floor. She forced herself to ignore her brother’s ghost as she stripped the sheets from his bed.

She moved quickly, grabbing as many blankets and sheets as she could find. Thankfully, there was no shortage of them in a royal bedroom. Elric’s room stripped, Edelgard moved to Adelaide’s. She similarly tore the sheets from Adelaide’s bed. Edelgard murmured an apology to her late sister for desecrating her room. But Adelaide would have wanted Hubert to stay safe.

Time was of the essence. Hubert waited in the open courtyard, where anyone could find him. She would have the rest of her life to mourn the emptiness left in her siblings’ wake. They were beyond her reach, but she could still help Hubert now.

Sheets bundled in her arms, Edelgard hurried back to her room. Hurriedly, she tied the sheets together, fingers steady as she pulled knots through the silk. Despite working quickly, she tested each knot with her hands, making sure they held tight. She tied the rope of sheets as securely as she could manage with her own strength. With one end anchored to her bed frame, Edelgard rushed back to the window and cast the other into the night.

The length of expensive silk sheets tumbled down the side of the castle and fell just short of the ground below. Hubert eyed it dubiously before glancing up to Edelgard with his brow raised.

“The sheets? Really?”

“If you wanted a ladder, you should’ve told me of your plan,” Edelgard hissed. “Now if you’re coming up, hurry!” Edelgard tugged twice on the sheets for emphasis.

Hubert grabbed onto rope, pulling on it to test his weight. When the knots held tight, Hubert let out a long sigh.

“I hope you know what you’re doing.” He fisted his hands in the silk and began climbing.

The full force of Hubert’s weight settled onto the shoddily made rope. Edelgard’s breath caught as the length of rope stretched, her hastily fastened knots straining. But they held tight as Hubert climbed. He planted his feet against the castle’s stone face, walking along the wall with short steps. He used the rope to brace his upper body, letting his legs pull him up.

Edelgard watched with bated breath, leaning out, hands clutched on the windowsill. Hubert had never been one for physical strength. But he steadily made his way up to Edelgard’s window. He’d spent the past three years scaling the palace walls. This was simply more of the same. Even as sweat beaded on his brow and silk burned his palms, he soldiered on, pulling himself up, hand over hand.

He reached the cusp of the first story, Edelgard began to lean forward, waiting for Hubert to climb within her reach. “When did you get so strong, Hubie?” she almost laughed.

“I’m not strong,” Hubert huffed, squinting in the darkness. “Just determined.”

The ghost of a smile curled over Edelgard’s lips. Despite his weakness and his faults, Hubert carried on. Despite the overwhelming odds, they persevered. Hubert held tight to the crimson road leading him into Edelgard’s waiting arms. One more step and he would  _ be  _ there.

He slipped.

“Hubert!” Edelgard gasped, nearly launching herself out the window.

His boot slipped against the stone. His feet fell out from under him. The rope pulled taut, dropping Hubert a few inches. He yelped, hands tightening on the silk as it flayed his skin open. Without his legs bracing him to the wall, his lower body became a weight pulling him down to earth. He kicked out, trying to regain traction on the wall. But he only succeeded in tangling his legs in the rope.

His arms burned, their meager strength the only thing holding him aloft. Sweat gathered on his torn open palms, loosening his grip. Only a couple feet remained between him and Edelgard. He just needed to center himself. He looked down, struggling to untangle himself.

The ground stretched out, twenty feet below.

His whole body seized up, colors bleeding at the edges of his vision. He was no longer hanging to a rope outside Edelgard’s window, but tied across the back of a wyvern. The silk in his grasp slithered around his wrists. It turned coarse and bound his hands pulling them down, down, down until they grasped his ankles. His back bowed, nearly to the point of breaking. All while the ground stretched out a mile below. If he dared to move he would fall to his death.

Ash clouded Hubert’s vision; the metallic tang of blood trickled down his throat. As the wyvern beat its powerful wings against the sky, they flew ever higher. The ground began to disappear beneath the haze of fog, until nothing but clouds lay below.

“Hubert!” Edelgard called.

He looked up, into Edelgard’s wide, stricken eyes. For the first time, Edelgard saw her own fear reflected in his eye. His hands and feet wrapped in the silk rope. He held perfectly still, dangling a dozen feet above the ground, even as Edelgard saw his hands begin to slip. She’d never known Hubert to be afraid.

Edelgard leaned forward out of the window. She stretched out, reaching out with open arms. Hubert lay far out of her grasp. If he let go with one hand, then stretched out in turn, maybe they could close the gap.

“Grab my hand!” She stretched out, her torso bent over the windowsill, fighting for every inch she could.

Hubert stared at her hand and the distance between them. It was only a couple feet. But to him, it stretched into the horizon. The rope swung, dangling him precariously over the valley below. Edelgard’s hand hovered a mile away, promising salvation he couldn’t possibly reach. He held to the rope with a death grip, even as he began to slip. But if he let go, even with one hand, he was certain he would fall. And if he fell, he was certain he would die.

“I can’t!” Hubert snapped, panic shaking his voice.

“Hubert!” Edelgard shushed.

Panic eroded what sense Hubert held onto. His voice rose, the sounds of his struggle cutting through the night’s silence. Edelgard’s eyes frantically searched the courtyard. She didn’t know what fear had taken hold of Hubert’s heart, but she had to get him out of the open.

“I won’t let you fall!” Edelgard promised.

Hubert still shook his head vehemently. The sharp staccato of his heart pounded in his ear and pulsed behind his missing eye. He could feel blood pouring down the right side of his face, seeping between his lips. His mouth filled and filled and filled until he drowned in his own blood.

“Don’t you trust me?” Edelgard asked

Hubert opened his eye, meeting Edelgard’s gaze. His own devotion shined back at him, reflected in her amethyst eyes. A beacon in the dark, his lighthouse guiding him to shore. It wasn’t right, after all his failures.  _ He  _ was supposed to be  _ her _ light.

He couldn’t possibly be deserving.

He grit his teeth and sent a prayer to a Goddess he didn’t believe in. He let go and reached up. Edelgard’s hands latched onto his, wrapping around his wrist tighter than any rope. A bright light shined between their clasped hands, the mark of Seiros burning into his flesh. Edelgard’s divine blood surged through her veins, strengthening her grip. She hauled Hubert up with more strength than any one girl should have.

Hubert’s shoulder strained in its socket, as she yanked him back through her open window. She stumbled, arms suddenly full of an angular teenage boy. For all the divine blood in her veins, her short body strained under Hubert’s height. They tumbled to the floor in a mess of limbs. Hubert’s knee dug into Edelgard’s thigh, her elbow jabbed underneath his ribs.

Immediately, Hubert rolled onto his side, hyper aware of each place their skin touched. It was improper for them to touch, in the privacy of her  _ chambers,  _ no less. An apology bubbled out of his mouth unbidden.

“Lady Edelgard, I’m so—”

Edelgard buried her head in his chest, arms snaking around his neck.  Her touch punched a gasp from Hubert’s lungs. She pulled him close, pressing every inch of her body along the length of his. Hubert’s face pressed against the top of Edelgard’s head and she  _ squeezed.  _ She grasped a shadow in her arms and held tight, refusing to let it flicker out.

Hubert’s body didn’t know how to react. It was unfamiliar,  _ improper _ for Edelgard to touch him. The retainer inside Hubert urged him to push her away, to remind her of their stations. But Edelgard’s body pressed against his, warm and safe and  _ real.  _ He’d spent so many days in fear, woke from nightmares where Edelgard returned to him broken, a hollowed out corpse.

Edelgard was  _ alive _ and Hubert would shatter into a million pieces if he tried to push her away. Slowly, he wound his arms across her back, daring to return her embrace. His hands nearly spun the width of her back and he held her like she was spun from glass. He didn’t dare to tighten his hold, certain she would shatter if he tried. Just the press of his palm over her spine was enough, as her lungs swelled to fill his hold with each breath.

Hubert struggled to maintain his composure. “You have no idea the joy it brings me to see you safe,” he gasped into Edelgard’s hair.

His whole body shook in her arms. He had mended the cracks in his facade over the years, smoothing rough-hewn edges over and over again. They broke open now in a shower of clay and tears as relief and regret filled his veins in equal measure.

“I feel the same,” Edelgard murmured. “I thought of you every day.”

Happiness bloomed in his chest. It was utterly selfish. Edelgard should not have to worry about her vassal’s wellbeing. His purpose was to be an extension of her will, the shadow at her back. For him to occupy even a fraction of her mind was a failure of duty. But knowing that did nothing to quell the butterflies beating against his ribs.

Hubert’s purpose was to be needed, and Edelgard  _ needed _ him.

“There’s no need for you to worry after me,” Hubert said despite his emotions.

He would not let his feelings interfere with his duty.

“That’s ridiculous.” Edelgard pushed him back, just enough so she could look into his face.

She paused, as they both took each other in. Edelgard had grown so much in her absence. She was still Edelgard, no doubt, but childish youth had given way to the first vestiges of womanhood. Her face was no longer round and rosy, thinner, the tips of her chin and nose pointed. More than that, her smile had dimmed, the shadows in her eyes long and dark.

At the same time, Edelgard’s eyes traced the scratches on Hubert’s cheek, blemished from his week on the run. She saw a more severe boy than the one she’d left, all traces of baby fat and youthfulness gone, replaced with gaunt cheeks and sallow skin. Her eyes stuttered on the bandage over his right eye.

But despite his injuries and the sharp point of his cheekbones, it was still her Hubert.

Edelgard’s lips curled into a bittersweet smile. “I promised you forever, didn’t I?”

Hubert could almost hear his heart break like shattered glass. “Lady Edelgard, I’m so sorry…”

Hubert ducked his face, pressing it into Edelgard’s shoulder. He didn’t deserve her comfort or the warmth of her arms. But he was a bitter, selfish creature and he couldn’t bring himself to cast off her embrace.

“What? Hubert?” Edelgard braced one arm on the ground, nearly falling back under Hubert’s weight.

Hubert opened his mouth, struggling to speak. But his throat squeezed around the words, threatening to choke him before he would ever get them out. His body shuddered, collapsing under the weight of his guilt.

“Lady Edelgard, I… I  _ tried.”  _ His words escaped as a sob. “I tried to go after you.

He was  _ pathetic. _ After all his failures, he still had the  _ gall  _ to beg for Edelgard’s forgiveness.

Edelgard fisted her hands in the back of Hubert’s shirt, holding tight to her shadow as he threatened to burst apart. “Hubert…”

“I tried to keep Lady Adelaide safe…!”

Edelgard’s mercy couldn’t wipe the slate clean. Even if the Goddess herself forgave him, his failures would cling to his skin like all the blood he could never wipe away. His fingertips were stained with Adelaide’s blood and nothing could ever wash it clean.

“It’s alright,” Edelgard soothed.

“I wasn’t strong enough…!”

No matter how he tried, it was never enough. Whatever strength he gained, their enemy remained stronger. They countered his every move and each time Hubert failed.

“I did everything I could and it wasn’t…!”

“Hubert!” Edelgard said sharply.

Her voice cut through the din of Hubert’s thoughts. Gently, she pulled away, just enough so she could meet Hubert’s eye. Edelgard’s own eyes brimmed with tears as she spoke.

“I  _ know,  _ Hubert.” Her eyes begged him to understand.  _ “Thank you, _ for taking care of my sister.”

Hubert blinked at her, brow furrowed. “You know?”

Edelgard’s smile quivered, a fragile broken thing. “She told me.”

One side of Edelgard’s face shone in the moonlight, the other occluded by shadow. The corner of her mouth twitched, struggling to keep her smile. Tears clung to her lashes, even as she struggled to blink them away. She left so much unsaid in those three words. Hubert’s mind grappled with puzzle pieces that didn’t fit together.

“Edelgard…” Hubert began, his words treading across the first frozen lake of winter. “What—”

Edelgard’s fingertips brushing over his cheek cut him off. Gently, she pushed back the curtain of hair falling over Hubert’s right eye. Or rather, where his eye used to be. A tender palm cupped Hubert’s cheek, thumb brushing over the bandage covering his eye. Edelgard’s brows turned upward, deep concern showing through her tears.

“Hubert…” His name rang hollow in the stillness. “What happened?”

The full spotlight of her attention burned his skin. The vassal in Hubert ached, more than the pain of losing his eye or the brand of a hot knife inside his skull. It was another of his many failures, that Edelgard needed to spare a thought to her retainer’s wellbeing.

Hubert wrenched back, Edelgard’s hand falling from his face. He turned so that she couldn’t see his injured eye.

“It’s nothing for you to concern yourself over,” Hubert said brusquely.

_ “Hubert.” _

This time, Edelgard’s voice rang stern. She raised her hand back to Hubert’s cheek. Gently she turned his face to her once more. Hubert tensed, his mouth pinching into a frown even as he let Edelgard pull his eye into focus. A deep sigh escaped her nose, as she took stock of Hubert’s injuries for the first time.

Faint scratches marred his cheek, faded by white magic. Hubert had always been skinny. But cupping his cheek in her hand, she felt its curve and the sharp line of his cheekbone. His face was far more gaunt than it had any right to be.

“That’s not for you to decide,” Edelgard murmured, eyes overflowing with compassion.

Huber closed his eyes against the well of emotion in his chest. Tear tracks were still drying on his cheeks. There was no need for yet more tears. He had done nothing to earn Edelgard’s mercy, yet she offered it all the same. His skin warmed at her touch, the warmth of her eyes and hands the first he had felt in months.

Whether he deserved it or not, Edelgard offered her hand. He may have been unworthy, but he trusted Edelgard’s judgment. If she deemed him worthy of forgiveness, or redemption, then Hubert simply had to trust her.

Slowly, he allowed his cheek to sink into her touch. Her hand burned with the warm glow of forgiveness. A weight sloughed off Hubert’s shoulders like a snake shedding its skin. He hadn’t allowed himself the light of redemption in years. He shuddered in her arms, his bones rattling against the veil of his skin.

Her thumb brushed over Hubert’s brow, carefully tracing the edge of his bandage. Her eyes locked on his empty socket, the place where a yellow-green eye used to stare back at her. The right side of Hubert’s face prickled under the force of her stare. It unnerved him to have someone stare at his face and be unable to meet their eyes. Especially Edelgard, whose gaze he never wanted to break.

Hubert furrowed his brow, his eye pinching closed. Edelgard’s eyes were perfectly cut gems set between her ears. They refracted the moonlight into a rainbow of color, shone through every sparkling tear. The guilt and sorrow in her gaze was something Hubert couldn’t bear. After everything they’d been through, its weight was too much.

“It’s gone,” Hubert sighed, answering the question Edelgard hadn’t asked.

Edelgard’s fingers stilled on his temple. “What… happened?”

“I tried to go after you.” Hubert’s voice caught in his throat. “My sister came after me. We fought and…” He trailed off.

The truth fumbled on his tongue, as he struggled to put words to the injury he’d suffered. The corners of Edelgard’s mouth pulled tight. Even if Hubert couldn’t, her mind could fill in the rest. Gingerly, her fingertips followed the scars above his brow, traces of his injury that magic hadn’t been able to erase.

“I’m sorry,” Edelgard breathed, thumb rubbing the scar into his skin, wishing she held the power to smooth it away.

Hubert shook his head, opening his eye. His gaze locked on hers, imploring Edelgard to look his way. Her gaze stayed locked on the dark half of his face. Hubert needed Edelgard to let go of that guilt. There was no reason for Edelgard to stain her hands with something so ugly.

“There is nothing to be sorry for,” Hubert assured her. “I don’t regret following after you. I only regret that I didn’t succeed.”

Edelgard sighed out her nose. “You need to be more careful.”

“I would do it all again in a heartbeat.”

“If you did it again, you would lose your other eye.”

“So be it.”

_ “Hubert.”  _ Edelgard’s voice cut sharply through the dark of night. “Do not needlessly sacrifice yourself for me.”

“It was not  _ needless,” _ Hubert insisted. “I have spent the past three years weighing the cost of my actions. Everything I’ve done has been worth the risk.”

Edelgard’s thumb brushed across the edge of his cheekbone, sharpened like the point of a knife. “I know you’re right,” she sighed. “As much as I wish you weren’t.”

“It’s a price I will gladly pay.”

“Did your brother think the same? Before he died for mine? _ ” _

Fire-forged steel burned in Edelgard’s eyes, a force of will that Hubert had never witnessed in her before. After a moment, it softened.

“I… am sorry,” Edelgard said, her eyes falling from Hubert’s. “It’s just… We have already lost so many. I… could not bear to lose you, too.”

“I know,” Warily, Hubert cupped her hand on his cheek. “It is not my intent to die for you.”

“Ensure that you do not.” Edelgard closed her eyes, a sigh escaping her lips. “You promised me forever, as well.”

“I won’t forget it.” Hubert squeezed her hand. “For as long as I live.”

Every piece of him belonged to Edelgard. If she deemed his life worth living, then he would live for her. All he had to offer her was the fire of his devotion, the will burning in his veins. He offered it to her freely, all his flames condensed to a bright star. He hoped it would guide her way in the darkness.

For a moment, the rest of the world fell away. All the world’s dangers lay outside. The threat of those that slither in the dark could wait for sunrise. They allowed themselves to bask in the safety of each other’s arms.

Tension fell away from Edelgard’s shoulders. For the past three years, every waking moment had been spent looking over her shoulder, waiting for the day her captors finally came for her. Her only escape was sleep, which came for her as exhaustion claimed her, back pressed to the wall. Even then, nightmares plagued her dreams.

In Hubert’s arms, she allowed those fears to fall away. He had  _ always _ kept her safe. Things had changed, of course. Their enemies were no longer childhood bullies. They hid in the shadows of the Empire, buried deep in its past. They burrowed deep into the heart of the Empire, like a corrupted seed, entangled with Adrestia’s roots. They knew so little of their enemy, yet Edelgard knew they had only scratched the surface.

But as much as they pretended, those dangers waited just outside. Neither of them were truly safe. Edelgard pulled back, as much as she wanted to stay safe in his arms. She looked into Hubert’s familiar, unfamiliar face.

“You can’t stay here.” Urgency filled her voice. “You’re under arrest. You shouldn’t have come.”

Hubert shook his head. “My father’s shackles can’t keep me from your side.”

“But if they discover you’ve left, they’ll punish you further.”

“What more could they possibly do?” Hubert’s voice bubbled out as a dark laugh. “There is no greater punishment than keeping me from you.”

“You just promised me you would live,” Edelgard pointed out. “Do you intend to go back on your word so easily?”

“My father will not kill me. If he intended to I would already be dead.”

Edelgard’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Were it not for his father’s grace, Hubert would have already been lost to her. Across the continent in Fhirdiad, she would have been powerless to stop it. Now that they were reunited, she would not let that future come to pass. When Arvid’s grace ran out, she had to shield Hubert, just as he’d protected her.

“And what of the people your father answers to?” Edelgard’s words cut through Hubert’s skin like the point of a knife. “When your actions spark their ire, what then? Do you truly think you can escape where my sister could not?”

Hubert fell silent. Shame bloomed on his cheeks, beneath Edelgard’s shrewd gaze. He had already tried to escape and lost an eye for his troubles. In his every action, he had shown exactly where his loyalty lay. Edelgard held his heart; his every breath was hers. Until now, youth had shielded him.

But as evidenced by his missing eye, that protection was wearing thin.

“I need to be here.” Hubert protested, meeting Edelgard’s stubbornness with his own. “I need to keep you safe.”

Edelgard’s eyes steeled beneath Hubert’s gaze. “I am never safe, so long as I am here.”

Hubert’s chest ached for the bright, sun-warmed girl that left Enbarr all those years ago. Echoes of her still lay in the Edelgard before him now, in the color of her eyes and the rosy blush on her cheeks. But hardship had stripped so much of her away, leaving a wilted girl, struggling against powers beyond her reach.

“I’ll return before sunrise,” Hubert finally relented. “But please, my lady, let me stay the night.”

As much Hubert wanted to keep Edelgard safe, that was not the whole truth. He sought to ensure her safety, yes. But secretly,  _ selfishly,  _ he simply missed his dearest friend. Hubert remained trapped under his father’s guard for the foreseeable future. The imperial throne shackled Edelgard to a sacrificial altar, far from Hubert’s reach. Who knew when Arvid would end Hubert’s bondage, or how tight Edelgard’s guard would be?

If the only way for Hubert to see Edelgard was under the cover of night, then he would seize it with both hands.

Slowly, Hubert watched Edelgard’s resolve falter, and he knew she felt the same. “Alright,” she finally sighed. “But you  _ must _ leave before sunrise. That’s an order.”

Hubert nodded, a silent vow of loyalty. “Of course, my lady.”

Edelgard prepared for bed with Hubert at her side. The nest of blankets and pillows she laid on the floor couldn’t compare to Hubert’s own bed. But to remain at Edelgard’s side, Hubert would have slept on a bed of nails. The hard ground was a far better option.

Edelgard slipped under covers that had not held a body in years. They were cold and stiff, and all the luxury in the world couldn’t erase the chill prickling her skin. She forced herself to settle, even with her heart pounding in her ears. It had been a long day of travel and posturing before Empire nobles. Tomorrow promised more of the same.

She needed rest. But even in the familiar embrace of her childhood bed sleep would not come. Every time she closed her eyes, childhood memories soured by time played out before her eyes. Ghosts echoed in her ears, whispers of the family that used to sleep at her side. Beside her, Hubert propped himself up on his elbow, watching her toss and turn.

“Lady Edelgard.” Hubert’s voice filled her bedroom like thunder rolling across the plains. “I won’t let any harm come to you while you sleep.”

It was an empty promise. If the palace guards sought to steal Edelgard away in the night, there was nothing either of them could do. Edelgard appreciated the sentiment, if nothing else. But empty promises did nothing to quiet the ghosts in her ears.

Edelgard turned in her bed so that she lay on her side, facing Hubert. Her eyes sought him in the darkness.

“Will you speak to me?” she asked. “I’d like to hear your voice.”

“Of course…” Hubert faltered. “What would you like me to say?”

“Anything. Tell me… tell me what’s happened while I’ve been gone.”

Hubert’s only concern the last three years had been returning to Edelgard’s side. Bloodstains and desperation colored all of Hubert’s memories. Hardly anything remained that would serve as a proper bedtime story.

If he stripped away the bloodshed, one point of light remained.

“Would you like to hear about how your sister taught me magic?”

Edelgard couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled out of her throat. “Did she really?”

A gentle smile curled at the corner of Hubert’s mouth as he remembered better days. “She had me writing equations until my fingers bled.”

Edelgard laughed again, quieter this time, as she settled into her pillow. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

“You never had her as a teacher,” Hubert countered.

“I suppose not,” Edelgard yawned.

Hubert regaled her with the story of his first magic lesson with Adelaide. In addition to being one of his happier stories, the lesson itself had been extremely boring. But the contents hardly mattered, as Hubert’s low voice rumbled in Edelgard’s ears like thunder over the southern sea. So far away, it couldn’t possibly hurt her.

Edelgard’s laughter dimmed, as Hubert’s voice lulled the princess into her first peaceful sleep in years. Soon, her only response to Hubert’s words was the rustle of breath against her pillow.

“She trusted me…” He murmured, only when he was certain Edelgard was truly asleep. “To keep the both of us safe.”

Hubert watched Edelgard’s eyelashes, fluttering gently against her rosy cheeks. She was still healthy, skin flush with life. Dark hair spilled over her pillow, the same chestnut brown Hubert remembered. Hubert would pay any price to keep her this way.

“I hope that I do not let her down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that's it for now! originally i had more planned for this fic, but i haven't written anything for it in like 6 months; i'm not saying i'll never come back and finish it but for now this is it.


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